Chapter 58

Scarlett The hall was smaller than I thought for something as formal as arbitration. It smelled of a damp stone and oil lamps, as though time had clung to its walls. I don’t even know why they had chosen this spot for a formal arbitration when it looks gloomy and dark. At the far end—ignoring Alexander who was following me with a smug face—two council sat, their quills already poised ready to write every word, every slip, and every pause. Their faces were blank masks; eyes trained on parchment rather than people. They didn’t even look up when we entered the room. Alexander had already found his seat—next to mine. The flicker of lamplight turned his dark hair into gleaming bronze, his posture a perfect imitation of ease but his eyes were locked onto mine—eyeing every of my move. “Stop staring, Alexander,” I coldly said. The corner of his lips rose, and he gestured. “Please take your seat, Scarlett,” he said while offering the seat next to him. “This is your chance to speak clearly witho