Chapter 4 - Trial by Fire
The color drained entirely from Cassian’s face. For a fraction of a second, panic flickered in his eyes, but decades of political manipulation quickly reasserted themselves. He forced himself up onto his knees, smoothing his rumpled silks with trembling fingers.
"Absurd," Cassian spat, attempting a bitter, defensive laugh that failed to fool a single person in the room. "A fabricated piece of trash planted by enemies of the state to destabilize the council! My liege, you cannot possibly listen to this—this peasant girl who seeks to manipulate your grief for her own ascension!"
None of the other lords stirred. They sat frozen in their high-backed chairs, staring at the scene with wide, terrified eyes. They had all known Cassian’s ambition; they had all quietly supported his campaign to rid the palace of the "false empress." But none of them had anticipated that Aeva and the emperor would move with such lethal, unapologetic speed.
"You call it a fabrication," Aeva said, her steps measured as she walked slowly around the kneeling chancellor. "Yet you knew the exact location of my village. You knew which hut belonged to us. You knew my sister’s name before the imperial collectors ever reached our door."
"You have no proof!" Cassian snarled, his mask of polite deference finally shattering into raw fury. He looked up at Vaelen. "Are you going to let a common whore dictate the fate of the high council based on a dirty rag? If you execute me without trial, every noble house in the empire will rise in rebellion! Your throne will crumble!"
Vaelen stepped forward, his shadow swallowing Cassian whole. The air in the chamber grew suffocatingly hot, the crystal chandeliers beginning to groan and crack from the sudden spike in temperature.
"My throne," Vaelen said softly, his voice carrying the terrifying weight of nine centuries of absolute power, "was built on dragon-fire and blood, Cassian. Do you honestly believe a collection of pampered aristocrats can tear down what an immortal built?"
Before Cassian could reply, the ground beneath the Senate chamber violently shuddered. Outside the towering stained-glass windows, a massive, obsidian shape blotted out the daylight. A low, thunderous growl vibrated through the floorboards, shaking the very foundations of the capital. The dragon was waiting just outside the courtyard, smelling the treason in the air.
"I demand trial by combat," Cassian screamed in desperation, playing his final, frantic card. "By ancient imperial law, any noble accused by the crown has the right to face their accuser in the arena! If she wants my life, she must take it herself!"
The hall went dead silent. According to the archaic laws of the Dragon Empire, a trial by combat could not be denied to a high lord—even by the emperor.
Cassian smiled inwardly, a cold, desperate triumph flashing in his eyes. Aeva was a peasant girl who had spent her life carrying turnips and surviving hunger; she had no training with a sword, no armor, and no chance against a seasoned warrior like him. He would slaughter her in the arena, and the council would regain control of the throne.
Aeva looked down at the gleaming dagger in her hand. Then she looked at Vaelen.
The emperor’s jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek. He shook his head imperceptibly, his eyes communicating a silent plea: Don't do this. Let me burn him here and now.
May you like
Aeva met his gaze, took a deep breath, and felt the golden mark on her chest pulse with a steady, unbreakable rhythm.
"Accepted," Aeva said clearly.
