Lucian Thorne stood in the shadows of the upper balcony, arms crossed over his chest, one shoulder braced against the cool marble wall.
From this height, the trial below looked like theater—an elegantly staged performance with every line calculated, every silence weaponized. The crowd watched with wide eyes and shallow breath, hanging on every word as if they mattered.
But Lucian?
Lucian watched Selene.
Not the words. Not the politics. Just her.
She had handled herself flawlessly—never defensive, never too bold. She pressed just enough, let Adrienne unravel herself, and baited Morwen without laying a single trap.
And then… Elder Halvar stepped in.
Unexpected. Useful.
Lucian's lips curved faintly.
She was playing the long game now. Not as the broken woman reborn in pain, but as something far more dangerous:
A queen learning her court.
A low voice spoke behind him. One of his scouts. "She's refusing to use the execution order."
Lucian didn't turn. "Good."
"She may lose without it."
"No," Lucian said, quiet but firm. "She's not here to win. Not yet."
He finally turned from the chamber's edge and began walking, his cloak whispering across the stone. "She's still testing them. Seeing who cracks. Who defends? Who might be bent—or broken."
"And if they try to break her?"
Lucian paused, glancing over his shoulder toward the glowing center of the trial far below.
"Then I'll step in."
The scout hesitated. "To protect her?"
Lucian smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"To collect what's left."
Selene stood in the center of the council chamber, the cold stone beneath her boots grounding her better than any comfort ever had.
Halvar's support had sent a ripple through the room. Small, but undeniable.
And yet
She did not move.
She didn't pull the execution order from her satchel. Didn't raise her voice or twist the knife.
Because instinct told her the moment wasn't ready yet.
She glanced toward Adrienne, who had withdrawn slightly, a smile fixed to her lips like glass—too tight, too polished. Morwen sat still, but his fingers drummed once against his staff. A tell.
They were rattled.
Not defeated. But off-balance.
And sometimes, that was more valuable than an exposed throat.
Selene looked up toward the crowd—not just the Council, but the spectators beyond. Warriors, pack leaders, even rogues who had come to watch the fall of a once-favored Luna.
And what she saw on their faces wasn't hatred.
It was curiosity.
"What happened to me," Selene said, her voice calm, even, "was sanctioned without a full vote. Without proof. Without inquiry. If this Council now wishes to examine me… it must also examine itself."
Murmurs again. Some nods.
One of the younger councilors—Elder Reyna, no more than thirty—exchanged a glance with Halvar.
Another crack.
Selene could feel it.
So she folded her hands and stepped back, giving the illusion of yielding.
Not because she was done.
But because they weren't ready.
Not yet.
Let them think she was patient.
Let them forget she was still hunting.
Morwen rose slowly, his ceremonial robes whispering over the polished floor.
Where Adrienne had wielded emotion like a dagger, Morwen moved like fog—quiet, unhurried, impossible to grab.
He stepped to the center of the dais with the practiced weight of authority, his gaze drifting calmly over the crowd.
"We have heard the accused's account," he said. "Her tone is composed. Her statements… carefully shaped."
He turned slightly, just enough to look at the circle of elders—not the crowd. The real jury.
"But tone does not equal clarity. And clarity does not guarantee stability."
Selene felt it immediately. The shift.
He wasn't going to attack her history.
He was going to attack her mind.
"Selene Nightshade was dead," Morwen continued, voice smooth. "Now she is not. That alone defies nature. But more than that—her power has changed. Her energy, her aura. Even her scent carries undertones we cannot explain. And this… should concern us all."
He let the words breathe.
Let the doubt grow.
"She has not demonstrated signs of madness," he added. "But is that not more dangerous? A broken mind that does not know it is broken?"
Gasps. Murmurs.
Selene stood motionless.
"This Council must consider a protective measure," Morwen concluded. "A magical assessment. Conducted in neutrality. To ensure that the mind of this... returned Luna is sound enough to stand among us."
Selene's jaw tensed.
A magical test.
Which meant blood spells. Memory readings. Psychic probes.
Violations dressed up as safety.
Halvar shifted in his seat but did not speak. Not yet.
Neither did Adrienne.
Because this was the new trap:
If Selene refused, she looked unstable.
If she accepted, they could fabricate anything.
And if she lashed out?
They'd finally have what they wanted: proof.
She didn't move.
Not yet.
But her fingers curled slowly at her side, nails pressing into her palm like claws just beneath the skin.
Selene lifted her eyes slowly.
The chamber had fallen still—thick with tension, like frost just before it cracks.
Morwen waited at the center of the ring, chin slightly lifted, the image of patient concern. But his eyes burned with anticipation.
He thought he'd pinned her.
He thought he'd forced a binary.
Comply and lose control.
Resist and look unhinged.
Selene didn't give him either.
She stepped forward, her voice low and lethal.
"I understand the Council's fear," she said. "Magic that returns the dead. Powers that weren't there before. It's a lot for the old world to accept."
Morwen raised an eyebrow. "Then you agree to testing?"
"I agree," she said, letting the silence stretch, "that fear makes fools of even the most educated minds."
The tension snapped like a pulled string.
Murmurs broke out again. Adrienne leaned forward, trying to catch Selene's expression. Halvar turned subtly toward the younger elders, gauging reactions.
Selene didn't flinch.
"I will not submit to a test designed by the same hands that signed my execution," she said clearly. "Nor will I pretend the Council has proven itself capable of neutrality."
Morwen's staff struck the floor once—loud, sharp. "That is not a refusal?"
"No," she replied, gaze steady. "That is a challenge. Find someone outside this council. Someone unaligned. Someone I name. Then we'll talk about truth."
The crowd stirred, voices rising with interest.
Selene stepped back, shoulders square, chin high. "But until then… if you want to dig through my mind, Elder Morwen, you'll need to bring more than parchment and fear."
She turned without another word and walked back to her place in the center of the hall.
The hearing wasn't over.
But the round belonged to her.
And she hadn't even needed to bleed for it.