#Chapter 29: Interrogations

(Violet’s POV) The Grand Court always smelled like blood and perfume. No matter how many polished marble columns or gold-inlaid benches they added, no matter how high the ceiling arched or how carefully the tapestries were chosen to reflect old power and new restraint—underneath it all, the air still held the scent of every life ruined inside these walls. And today, it was full. Every bench was packed. Nobles elbow to elbow. House banners coiled discreetly in lapels, on cufflinks, in the too-stiff posture of minor lords trying to look more important than they were. The tribunal sat high above, cloaked in official crimson, stone-faced and already tired. The scribes clicked their quills. The audience leaned forward. I walk in alone dressed in black. Not mourning black, not courtroom formality. It was tailored, sharp, clean-lined. The kind of black that didn’t ask permission. No jewelry. No crest. Nothing to claim but my posture. Ronan was already seated at his table, flanked