Page 21

SELENE

I stand in the cavernous chamber of Orthani’s central court, wrists bound loosely by a single iron chain.

The council has chosen to parade me in front of every noble house that bothers to show up, as if I’m some prized beast. The vaulted ceiling towers overhead, carved with serpents and swords entwined in a tapestry of dark legend.

A row of crystal sconces line the walls, each glimmering with arcane energy, painting the black marble floor in hues of purple and blue.

I swear I can feel the hush of anticipation in the charged air—these lords and ladies revel in the spectacle of a purna dragged before them.

At the front of the chamber, three council members sit behind a curved dais, each wearing the elaborate regalia of Orthani’s elite.

Their robes are studded with metal plates, and the silver circlets on their foreheads mark them as final arbiters of city matters.

Vaelith stands to one side, clad in a dark sleeveless cuirass that shows off the muscle along his broad arms. His skin gleams obsidian in the light, and a purple sash with his family’s insignia—crossed swords—drapes from one shoulder.

He projects calm authority, eyes scanning the crowd as though he’s already measured every threat in the room.

Across from him, Zareth stands with calculated elegance.

He’s robed in black velvet etched with golden psionic runes that snake over his chest and spine.

His crimson hair contrasts starkly with his midnight attire, and when he looks my way, I sense his pulse spike, tasting that twisted fascination he directs at me.

Other dark elf nobles mill around them, whispering behind fans and raised collars, eager for a spectacle.

At a court herald’s gesture, I’m pushed forward.

My ankles chain lightly; they haven’t locked me too tightly, not after my last demonstration in the training arena.

But these constraints are enough to remind everyone that I’m captive.

The hush deepens. A sea of slanted eyes observes me with a mixture of curiosity, fear, and cruel delight.

The herald clears his throat. His voice booms through the chamber thanks to some small amplifier. “We reconvene to address the fate of Selene, the captured purna. She stands accused of infiltration and defiance against Orthani’s laws. The honorable council demands a resolution.”

A stern-faced councilor, a woman with braided silver hair and eyes like polished steel, folds her hands. She radiates the kind of authority that suggests centuries of power. “Step forward, purna.”

I do, forcing my chin high. There’s a soft ripple of reaction from the gathered nobles. Some appear surprised that I don’t cower. Let them see that I refuse to shrink under their scrutiny. My gaze flicks across the dais, daring them to break me if they can.

“We gather to settle your position in Orthani,” the councilor says. “You’ve shown combat prowess. Commander Vaelith has stated you could serve in the city’s military ventures, under strict watch.” Her gaze shifts to Vaelith, as though inviting him to confirm.

He meets my eyes, face impassive. “She could be of use. Her skill is undeniable. We’ve tested her. She can fight.”

A nervous murmur passes among the nobles, perhaps recalling how I humiliated a few soldiers in the training arena. Good. Let that rumor spread.

Zareth steps forward, voice a silken purr.

“If I may speak?” He glances at the councilor, who inclines her head.

Then he levels me with a predatory smile.

“I’ve tested her psionic resilience. Rarely have I encountered a mind so…

formidable. It warrants further study. Imagine the potential if we refine her power.

She belongs under House Velcorin’s supervision, not in some grunt army. ”

My stomach rolls uneasily at the memory of Zareth’s mental prodding, how he tried to peel back my defenses. I force my expression to stay neutral, refusing to let him sense how that incursion still sets my teeth on edge.

Vaelith’s jaw tightens. “Your psionic tinkering is not Orthani’s priority, Zareth. We need warriors, not your twisted experiments.”

Zareth’s lips curve. “Experiments? Don’t project your violent fantasies onto me, Commander. House Velcorin invests in Orthani’s future by refining minds, not smashing skulls.”

A flicker of electricity zips through the air. The crowd leans in, eager for the clash between these two powers. The councilor raps her knuckles on the dais. “Enough. Both arguments have merit, but the final choice belongs to the council.”

An elderly council member, his scalp etched with arcane tattoos, clears his throat.

“Commander Vaelith proposes we place her under the city’s military oversight, ensuring she remains an asset rather than a threat.

Lord Zareth proposes further psionic research that might unlock deeper potential.

We cannot risk letting her roam free, but neither do we wish to stifle a talent Orthani could harness. ”

My lips twist with silent contempt. They speak as though I’m a resource, a rare element to be extracted. I yearn to lash out, but I keep my posture composed. The hush in the chamber feels suffocating, all eyes pinning me like a rare specimen.

Zareth bows slightly to the dais. “If we let Vaelith’s brutes handle her, they’ll stifle her gifts with rudimentary discipline. A shameful waste. My house has centuries of psionic artistry—she’d be an exquisite subject. We can keep her docile with mental binds.”

Vaelith’s hands curl at his sides, a flicker of anger passing over his stoic facade. “Mental binds,” he echoes. “As though she’s no more than a puppet. Is that your solution, to break her mind until she begs for release?”

Zareth lifts a shoulder. “She’d be more cooperative.” A soft chuckle escapes him, laced with cruelty.

The councilor’s gaze sweeps between them. She presses her lips into a tight line, then lifts a finger. “And you, purna? Have you anything to say regarding your future in Orthani?”

A wave of tension crackles through the chamber.

I know any response could be twisted. I weigh my words, noticing how Vaelith and Zareth watch me with hawk-like focus, each hoping I’ll tip the balance in their favor.

I meet the councilor’s stare. “I am no willing servant,” I say, voice steady.

“But if forced to choose, I’d rather fight with a sword than let him rattle around in my head. ”

Zareth smirks, a spark of challenge in his eyes.

Vaelith’s expression remains rigid, though a faint flicker of satisfaction crosses his features.

The councilor nods. “Then we shall proceed with Commander Vaelith’s recommendation.

You will serve Orthani’s military. As a measure of caution, you are still bound by wards.

If you become a liability, we revoke that privilege and hand you over to House Velcorin. Understood?”

I give a curt nod. My heart pounds. This arrangement is no victory; it merely shifts me from one brand of captivity to another. Yet it grants me a measure of distance from Zareth’s invasive mind games. I sense how disappointed he is, though he schools his features into amused resignation.

“Very well,” the elderly council member says. “Commander, she is yours to command. Ensure you control her.”

Vaelith bows stiffly, not looking at me. “Thank you, my lords. I will do what’s necessary.”

The herald booms, “Proceed with the formal presentation. Let all witness Orthani’s latest acquisition.”

A pair of guards step forward, gripping my arms. They usher me onto a raised platform at the center, high enough for the entire assembly to see me clearly.

A hush falls, broken only by murmurs as onlookers crane their necks.

My pulse hammers with rage. The humiliation of being displayed like a caged beast gnaws at me, yet I stand tall, refusing to lower my gaze.

I notice the council members exchange satisfied looks.

They relish the drama of it all. Vaelith stands off to one side, fists at his sides, posture controlled.

Zareth remains at the opposite end, arms folded in velvet sleeves, eyes gleaming.

I swear he’s imagining all the ways he might have turned me into his mental plaything. My stomach twists.

“Behold Orthani’s new purna,” the herald declares. “She stands testament to our city’s strength—and to what fate awaits those who challenge us.”

A few scattered claps sound from the crowd, though the majority observe in silence, calculating whether I’ll be a boon or a future threat. The guard on my left inclines his head at Vaelith. “Commander, shall we proceed?”

Vaelith steps forward, climbing the platform steps. He halts a foot away, his presence overshadowing the smaller guard. The tension in my spine intensifies. He scans me from head to toe before facing the audience. “Orthani claims her. She will serve in our ranks.”

I clench my teeth. Every fiber of me longs to lash out, but I remain still, letting them see that I might be controlled physically, but my spirit stands unbroken.

Vaelith extends his hand in a gesture of possession, but he doesn’t touch me.

Perhaps he senses I’d recoil. Or maybe he’s wise enough not to push that boundary here. The councilor nods, satisfied.

“Return her to your estate,” she says. “Ensure she abides by our laws. We have no further use for this ceremony.”

With that, a chord of finality resonates in the hall. The crowd of nobles begins dispersing, drifting into side conversations or heading toward carved exits. Zareth lingers, cutting a pointed glance my way. He flashes a smile that is all teeth, as though saying this isn’t over. My blood simmers.