Chapter 188: Tribunal’s shame
The morning sun cast its golden fingers through the high windows of the council chamber, but the warmth it promised never reached the people gathered inside. The air was cold with tension, thick with whispers, heavy with eyes that dared not look too long at the man seated on the throne at the end of the hall.
Allen sat like he’d always belonged there—spine straight, legs spread comfortably, arms draped over the rests. He didn’t wear armor, didn’t need a crown. His presence was armor. His name, now muttered in half-fear and half-awe, had become its own sort of coronation.
Fina stood beside him on the left, Rinni to the right. Both dressed in regal simplicity—flowing fabric in midnight blue and ivory, subtle gold glints at their waists. Silent. Watching. Waiting.
And in the space between them all, the spectacle began.
The council elders had returned, as ordered. Jass, Doel, Fenlo, Lira, and Yoru—cloaked in self-importance and shame. The stain of their indulgence during the previous ordeal still clung to them, whether in the tremble of Lira’s fingers or the way Fenlo couldn’t quite meet Allen’s eyes. They stood along the raised dais like ghosts, faces hollow, expressions trapped between resentment and resignation.
But it wasn’t them the gathered nobility was staring at.
It was the women.
Calla, Mira, Niva, Tessa, and Brin stepped forward in red silk robes, just as Allen had instructed. The fabric shimmered like blood in sunlight, clinging softly to freshly washed skin, cut just low enough to show the ink each one bore across her chest, collarbone, or stomach. Permanent declarations. Permanent belonging.
They didn’t walk with shame. They didn’t crawl.
They stood—shoulders back, eyes ahead, each footstep a declaration louder than any accusation. These weren’t broken maids. These were Allen’s. And the crowd knew it.
A hush fell over the room as Soreya was led in last.
She was not in red.