"You mock the dead!"
"I honor the living," Jolthar replied simply.
Akopa's mustache twitched. He leaned slightly toward the prince and murmured, "Sharp. He parries as he speaks."
The prince nodded, eyes alight with interest.
"And he strikes where it hurts most—without raising his voice. Dangerous."
Raayani felt her chest swell despite herself. She lifted her chin, her gaze fixed on Jolthar, pride cutting through the tension like sunlight through clouds.
At the edge of the chamber, Milan said nothing.
He didn't look at Jolthar.
He watched Richardus.
Watched the minister's jaw tighten, his fingers curl, and his composure strain just enough to show.
And Milan understood then that this was no longer a trial Richardus controlled.
Richardus straightened his robes and returned to his place, the faint disorder in the hall settling as he raised his voice once more.
"Justiciar Dodd," he said evenly, "the matter before us is no longer ambiguous."
