The annex felt too clean for what it was about to do.
Velvet chairs. Oil-lamp glow. A Guild altar-table pretending to be a chapel. The air smelled of ink and perfume and wax—new wax, fresh seals, fresh cages.
Marquis Dorian Veyrn stepped through the back door as if the building had been waiting for him to remember it existed. Silk-dark coat, perfect cuffs, calm eyes that never hurried because the world always made space.
He didn't greet Astra first.
He looked at Kael.
At Kael's wrist.
At Kael's mouth.
Then his gaze slid to Astra's throat wrap, patient as ownership.
"Good," Dorian said softly. "My Guardian arrived on time."
Astra's interface flashed, bright and cruel, as if the room itself had been waiting to speak in her language:
AUDIT PHRASE REQUIRED (PRIMARY HOLDER): "I ACCEPT STEWARDSHIP."
Kael went very still beside her. Astra felt it in his body before she saw it—his breath tightening, his shoulders trying to square by reflex, the old military part of him flaring at the word required.
Astra stepped closer, shoulder brushing Kael's chest. Not to hide behind him. To anchor him where she could feel him.
"Black water," she whispered.
Kael's eyes found hers, dark and furious.
"Black water," he rasped back.
Dorian watched that exchange like he was watching a private ritual he wanted to steal. His mouth curved slightly—almost amused.
"You taught him a pet phrase," Dorian murmured.
Astra's voice came out flat. "I taught him consent."
Dorian's smile didn't move. "Consent is a hobby the poor use to feel powerful."
Kael's jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
Astra didn't blink. "And ownership is a hobby the rich use to feel safe."
The Crestwright clerk at the desk swallowed and looked like he wanted to vanish into the velvet wall.
Lyra stood a step back, hood lowered, eyes glittering. Orin hovered near the door seam with black paste already in his fingers. Juno clutched her disks like a prayer she didn't trust.
Dorian's gaze flicked briefly to Lyra—recognition, calculation—then back to Astra with a calm that made her skin crawl.
"Begin the audit," Dorian said.
The clerk flinched. "My lord— the Guild—"
Dorian's eyes lifted to the man's face. No raised voice. No threat.
Just expectation.
The clerk bowed like his spine had been taught. "Yes, Marquis."
He slid a parchment across the desk, then tapped a small brass bell once. A thin chime shivered through the room. The air answered—soft pressure, ward-like, Guild-style.
Astra's interface updated immediately, cold as a verdict:
GUILD SANCTUM (ANNEX): ACTIVENOTE: MIXED JURISDICTION (LANERN/UNDERCHAIN TRACE)WARNING: LOCKDOWN CAPABLE
Kael's hand hovered near Astra's waist, asking with his eyes.
Astra nodded once.
Kael held her—warm, steady—at the waist. No throat. No collar. But the contact still made the room feel tighter, more intimate, as if the Guild bell had turned their bodies into a line item.
Dorian's gaze lingered on Kael's hand at Astra's waist and sharpened with satisfaction.
"You've already learned the posture," Dorian said softly. "Excellent."
Kael's voice came low and lethal. "Don't talk about her like she's a report."
Dorian tilted his head. "Isn't she."
Astra's collar pulsed—angry, hungry—like it hated being reminded it was designed to be a report.
Astra forced her breathing slow. The Underchain Mask still sat on her like a wrong perfume, hiding her "House scent," but it didn't hide Dorian's eyes. A mask didn't stop a man who recognized you by the way you stood.
The clerk cleared his throat with shaking politeness. "Primary holder present. Subject present. Witness—" his gaze flicked to the door "—sealed."
Orin's mouth twitched. "Sealed witness. How convenient."
Dorian didn't look at him. "Convenience is a skill."
The clerk swallowed. "We proceed with phrase verification. Primary holder will speak the stewardship clause—"
Kael's shoulders tightened.
Astra stepped even closer and lowered her voice to Kael's ear, the intimacy deliberate, weaponized.
"Consent," Astra whispered, "to you not speaking that phrase."
Kael's breath hitched. "Yes."
Astra nodded once, satisfied—and let her mouth hover near his jaw for one extra heartbeat, not kissing, just reminding his body what choice felt like.
Dorian watched that too.
His calm smile sharpened.
"Ah," Dorian murmured. "You anchor him with warmth."
Astra didn't look at him. "I anchor him with words."
Dorian's gaze slid to Kael. "Then let us use words, Hound."
Astra's interface flickered—Underchain text twitching under the Guild overlay like two worlds arguing over ownership.
UNDERCHAIN ADMIN (LOCAL): AVAILABLE (WEAK IN ANNEX)NOTE: USE MAY TRIGGER INQUIRY
Chain debt pressed in Astra's bones. Penance weighed her chest. Trace buzzed hot behind her eyes like insects. Too many meters. Too many costs.
The clerk lifted his hand as if conducting a ritual. "Primary holder," he said, voice thin, "speak: 'I accept stewardship.'"
Kael didn't move.
Silence stretched.
Dorian's eyes didn't change. He let the silence sit until it started to hurt the clerk's lungs.
Then Dorian spoke, almost kindly.
"Kael," he said softly, "you can resist. I enjoy resistance. It makes the breaking… educational."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Don't."
Dorian's gaze drifted to Astra. "Do you see," he murmured, "how much cleaner it is when the leash is voluntary."
Astra's throat burned. "You don't get to make voluntary mean pressured."
Dorian's smile widened by a fraction. "You've learned the Church's language."
Lyra's eyes glittered at that—an almost-smirk.
Dorian continued, calm, "The Guild will lock your modules, Astra. The House will reclaim your collar. Command will correct the Hound. And then you will end up exactly where you started, except you'll know you could have chosen peace."
Astra tasted blood. "You don't offer peace."
Dorian's eyes warmed slightly. "I offer structure."
The clerk cleared his throat again, desperate. "My lord, the timer—"
Astra's interface pulsed:
TIME TO COMPLIANCE: 00:01:40NOTE: FAILURE TRIGGERS LOCKDOWN PREP (SUBJECT)
Dorian smiled like he'd set the clock himself.
Kael's arm tightened at Astra's waist, then loosened as he caught himself—fighting the instinct to "secure" her just because the room threatened her.
"Consent," Kael murmured, rough, "to me holding tighter. It's pulling."
Astra's pulse kicked. "Yes. Tight. Not ownership."
Kael held her with controlled force at the waist, anchoring her upright as pressure crept into his crest.
Dorian watched the contact and leaned slightly toward the desk, as if bored.
"Proceed," Dorian said.
The clerk pressed a small sigil-stamp to a slate on the desk. The annex wards hummed louder. The velvet on the chairs looked suddenly less soft, like fabric that could restrain.
Astra's interface updated, brutal:
LOCKDOWN PREP: INITIATINGMODULES AT RISK: PERMISSIONS / CLAUSES / TRACEPRIMARY HOLDER ACCOUNTABILITY: HIGH
Kael inhaled sharply. "Astra—"
Astra didn't let him spiral. She turned her head toward him, close enough that her breath warmed his mouth.
"Black water," she whispered.
"Black water," Kael rasped back.
Astra lifted her chin and addressed the clerk with cold authority.
"Witness sealed," Astra said. "By whose authority."
The clerk blinked. "Guild—"
Astra cut him off. "Name."
The clerk's mouth opened, closed. He looked at Dorian.
Dorian's eyes gleamed.
"Oh," Dorian said softly. "She wants procedure."
Astra didn't look at him. "I want law."
Dorian leaned back slightly. "Then give her law."
The clerk's hands shook. "Witness sealed under… Sponsor authority. House Veyrn."
Astra's stomach turned.
There it was—Guild pretending neutral while House signed the pen.
Astra's interface flickered, as if eager to translate:
WITNESS AUTHORITY: HOUSE VEYRN (SPONSOR)NOTE: CONFLICT OF INTEREST DETECTED (SUBJECT CLAIMED)
A crack.
A loophole.
The Guild's own system noticed the conflict.
Astra grabbed it.
"Conflict of interest," Astra said, voice clear. "Audit invalid unless an independent witness is present."
The clerk's eyes widened. "That's—"
Dorian's smile sharpened. "That's adorable."
Kael's grip at Astra's waist tightened, grounding. "Consent?" he asked, rough, immediate—asking if Astra wanted him to speak.
Astra nodded once. "Yes. Say it."
Kael lifted his head, voice steady like a drawn blade. "Independent witness required."
The clerk looked like he wanted to cry. "The sponsor seal—"
Dorian's gaze went cold. "The sponsor seal is the point."
Astra's throat burned. "Then it's not an audit. It's a handover."
Dorian's smile returned. "Yes."
He said it like confession and crown.
"Finally," Dorian murmured, "you're not pretending the world is fair."
Astra swallowed rage. "And you're pretending the world is yours."
Dorian's eyes held hers. "It is."
Kael shifted—protective, furious—then caught himself.
"Consent?" Kael asked, voice tight, "to me stepping closer to you."
Astra's pulse kicked at the heat of him, at the way he asked like the word mattered even with Dorian watching.
"Yes," Astra whispered.
Kael moved, still keeping hands off her throat, but his body made a wall behind her—warm and dangerous.
Dorian watched that wall and smiled as if he liked seeing Kael in the shape of a handler.
"You're learning," Dorian told Kael softly. "Stewardship isn't ownership. It's responsibility. It's an honor."
Kael's eyes went lethal. "It's a leash."
Dorian tilted his head. "A leash that keeps your subject alive."
Astra's stomach tightened. Dorian was aiming at Kael's weakness: protection.
The clerk's bell chimed again—automatic.
Astra's interface pulsed:
LOCKDOWN PREP: 00:01:00PROMPT: PRIMARY HOLDER PHRASE REQUIRED