I had never been to the Imperial Court before. Not officially. Not as a guest. Certainly not as a participant.
But today… today I was a guest of honor.
Correction: I was evidence.
"Do you hear that?" I chirped from Arwen's shoulder as we walked through the outer corridors of the Imperial Hall. The sound of brass instruments echoed through the stone walls like someone had weaponized a parade.
"Trumpets," Arwen muttered. "They're trying to make it seem like a celebration."
"Am I being celebrated?" I asked.
She gave me a look. "You're being scrutinized. Politely."
We stepped into the Hall of Twelve Pillars, which was about as subtle as its name suggested. Massive columns loomed on either side of a long golden carpet. Nobles filled the gallery seats, whispering behind fans and enchanted monocles. At the far end of the hall, beneath a throne carved from something suspiciously bone-colored, sat the Empress.
She looked bored.
Next to her stood a scribe holding no fewer than six scrolls and a quill the size of my tail.
"I want to go home," I chirped.
"You are home," Arwen said. "Unfortunately."
A steward in robes that sparkled with embroidered sigils stepped forward. He cleared his throat with theatrical gravity.
"Princess Arwen Nightveil, summoned by the Council of Lineage, accompanied by her familiar… designation unlisted."
The room stirred.
Arwen stepped forward with all the grace of someone who had no time for this nonsense. I perched proudly, if a little nervously. A familiar's honor was on the line, and I had only bitten one official so far this week. Progress.
The Empress raised one finger.
"Begin," she said.
---
The Council's lead archivist, a man who looked like he had personally fought a war against joy and won, stepped forward.
"We are here to address the irregularity detected in Vault Index records," he said. "Specifically, the anomaly triggered by an unregistered soulbeast."
He gestured at me.
I chirped. "Hi."
He flinched. "The familiar known as… unnamed."
"That's me," I added.
Arwen didn't smile. Her gaze swept across the council members like a cold wind.
"You summoned us to explain a reaction your own Vault caused," she said. "The relics responded to him, not the other way around."
"That may be," the archivist replied, "but your soulbond is unrecognized by imperial records. The resonance flare disrupted three sealed artifacts, including a mirror of soul-thread origin. It named him."
"Unbound," I muttered.
The word hung in the air like a bad smell.
The Empress raised an eyebrow. "Unbound. An old designation."
One of the council nobles leaned forward. "Extinct, some say."
"Lost," added another.
"Or hidden," said the third, smiling thinly.
Arwen's voice was cool. "What does it matter? He is mine."
The archivist held up a scroll. "It matters because relics tied to imperial security responded to a soulbeast not listed in the registry. The last time such a flare occurred was during the Feral Age."
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
Someone coughed. Someone else dropped a monocle.
I looked at Arwen.
"Was that a bad age?"
"Depends on whether you liked cities," she replied.
The Empress tapped her throne.
"The council proposes a solution," she said. "A provisional trial. The familiar will be tested for stability."
Arwen's jaw tightened. "Tested how?"
A tall noble with entirely too many rings stepped forward. "Through controlled engagement. A duel."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
Arwen stepped forward. "You want him to fight?"
"Against a registered familiar," the noble said. "In neutral conditions. Supervised. To determine if the bond is viable or… unstable."
"This is ridiculous," Arwen snapped. "He's not a gladiator."
"It is standard protocol," the archivist said.
"For feral spirits," Arwen said.
The Empress spoke again, her voice quiet but absolute. "A duel is a small price for certainty. Unless, of course, you fear the outcome."
Arwen stared at her mother.
Then at me.
Then back at the Empress.
"We accept," she said.
I choked on air. "We what?"
---
We accepted the duel.
Correction: Arwen accepted the duel.
I was still mentally constructing my list of regrets when we left the throne room.
"You could have said no," I chirped.
"I did not have a choice," she muttered.
"I would have voted no."
Arwen didn't answer. Her hands were clenched at her sides. I could feel the tension through the bond. She wasn't angry at me… she was furious at herself.
At the court.
At the rules that forced her into this.
The corridors blurred around us as she stormed through the palace, nobles scattering like leaves. I clung to her shoulder, trying to process what had just happened.
"So… who am I fighting?" I asked, trying to sound brave.
"Lord Iven's familiar," she said.
I squeaked.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"They want a spectacle," she said. "He wants revenge."
"Oh," I said. "Because I bit him."
"You bit his bird."
"It was provoked!"
Arwen finally stopped walking. We stood in front of the doors to our tower suite. She reached for the handle, paused, and turned to me.
"They want to prove you're unstable," she said softly. "That I can't control you."
I tilted my head. "Can you?"
She smiled faintly. "No."
I chirped.
"But they think this duel will scare us," she continued. "Prove their point. Paint you as wild."
"They've clearly never seen me nap."
She reached up and gently stroked the feathers on my head.
"We'll prepare," she said. "Together."
---
By nightfall, our suite had been transformed.
Not with training equipment. Not with weapons. But with books.
Piles and piles of ancient scrolls, dusty tomes, and at least three enchanted diagrams that hovered mid-air and hummed ominously.
"Where did all this come from?" I asked, perched on a stack of pillows.
"The Nightveil archives," Arwen said, flipping through a book larger than my entire body. "Family records. Battle logs. Familiar techniques."
I squinted at a nearby scroll. "This one says 'Soulbeast Containment Strategies.' That feels a little… aggressive."
"Ignore that," she said. "It's outdated."
I waddled over to another tome, sniffing the cover.
"Do you expect me to learn combat techniques from books?" I chirped.
"No," she said. "I expect you to survive."
I puffed up. "I am majestic. I will do more than survive."
"You flopped off a table this morning," she said.
"Dramatically."
She sighed, setting the book aside. "We don't have time to teach you magic."
"Good, because I don't know how to use it."
"But you have instincts," she said. "When the bond flares, you react. That's your strength."
I blinked. "Biting?"
"Unpredictability," she said.
I liked that better.
---
The next morning arrived far too soon.
The duel would take place in the Academy's ceremonial arena, a fancy term for "magically reinforced courtyard where nobles show off."
We arrived early. Arwen wore her battlecoat... black silk, silver thread, and an expression that said "do not talk to me." I rode on her shoulder, tail feathers combed, claws sharpened.
Lord Iven was already there, standing at the far end of the courtyard. His familiar perched on his arm... the same metallic-feathered bird I had bitten once before. It stared at me with unblinking malice.
"Let's settle this," Iven called. "No interference. Familiar versus familiar."
"Agreed," Arwen said.
The Chancellor stood in the audience box, scribes flanking him.
"Begin," he announced.
Iven's bird took off with a shriek of challenge.
I blinked. "Now?"
"Now," Arwen said, placing me gently on the ground.
I stood there, staring at the sky, watching the bird dive straight for me.
"This seems unfair," I chirped.
The bird screeched, claws extended.
I flopped sideways.
It missed.
Gasps echoed through the crowd.
I rolled to my feet. The bird wheeled around for another pass.
"Any advice?" I called to Arwen.
"Be yourself," she called back.
"I was hoping for something more tactical!"
The bird dove again.
This time, I jumped. Not gracefully. Not heroically. But I jumped.
We collided midair.
Sparks flew. Magic twisted.
The bond flared.
I felt something awaken. Not power. Not clarity. Just… a pull.
The bird screeched, trying to break away.
I held on.
We crashed to the ground, a tangle of feathers and energy.
I rolled free. The bird did not rise.
Silence.
I panted, chest heaving, spark flickering wildly.
The Chancellor stood.
"Victory," he said, "to the unnamed."
The crowd erupted.
I looked at Arwen.
She smiled.
And I felt like I had just won something more than a duel.