Chapter 28: The Trial
Queen, having thrown off her cape covered with snowflakes, barely made a sound on the carpets of the corridors of the estate. The air inside smelled of wax, old wood, and quiet, serene power—the exact opposite of the icy chaos reigning outside the walls. The maids who met on the way bowed their heads respectfully, but there was burning curiosity in their gazes. Everyone already knew. Everyone was whispering.
The butler, mute as a rock, was already waiting at the door of his father's study. He silently opened the heavy oak doors, letting her inside, and just as silently closed them, leaving the father and daughter alone.
The study was bathed in warm lamplight and the crackle of logs in the fireplace. Solomon was sitting at his desk, immersed in studying some ancient scrolls, but his gaze was absent, directed through the parchment into unknown distances. He looked up at his daughter, and a tired expectation flashed in his scarlet eyes.
—Father, he fell for the trap,— Quinn began, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice, not from the cold, but from nervous tension. —But he hasn't done anything all day so far." He didn't go to the Genesis.
Solomon slowly put down his pen. His fingers, thin and long, tapped on the tabletop. - hm. There's a year left before the Academy," he said, and his voice sounded thoughtful, as if he was talking to himself. "She's good, but she's still weak. Very weak. There are no craftsmen who could make a real blade out of it.…
He didn't finish. His gaze, which had slid behind Quinn, suddenly froze. The door to the office opened without knocking, an unheard—of audacity.
One of the maids stood in the doorway, her usually impassive face distorted by a mixture of horror and bewilderment. She looked from Quinn to Solomon, and her lips trembled, but there was no sound.
An icy chill of apprehension ran down Quinn's spine. Solomon rose from his chair, his movements brusque and lacking his usual elegance. - what? A single word sounded like the crack of a whip.
The maid, unable to utter a word, only waved her hand frantically towards the exit.
They ran out of the office and down the long corridors, sweeping the stunned servants out of the way. Solomon walked in front, his cloak fluttering like a dark banner. Quinn could barely keep up with him, her heart pounding in her throat.
They ran out into the front yard, into the blinding white light and the biting wind.
And they froze.
The picture they saw was so incredible that their brains refused to process it.
Ragnar was kneeling in the middle of the snow-cleared circle. The Clan's strongest swordsman, whose rage was legendary. His head was bent low, and his katanas, always ready for battle, lay on the snow in front of him, folded crosswise. A sign of utter surrender.
And in front of him, absolutely calm, with his arms crossed over his chest, he stood. Azrael. His long black hair swayed in the wind, and his brown eyes looked at the humiliated warrior with cold indifference. They seemed to contain neither anger nor triumph, but... boring inevitability. It was as if everything that was happening had been a foregone conclusion long ago.
And a little further away, hugging herself against the cold, but with her eyes burning with delight, stood that same girl, Yuki. She looked at Azrael not with fear, but with boundless, animal adoration. She looked like a god who had come down from heaven to punish or have mercy.
"What—" Quinn began, but the words stuck in her throat.
Solomon was silent. His face was as pale as the snow around him. He had seen more than just the defeat of his best warrior. He saw the collapse of all his calculations, all his plans. He was trying to trap a predator, and the predator came to his house and pinned his most formidable dog to the ground in one motion.
Azrael slowly raised his head and met Solomon's gaze. There was no challenge in his eyes. There was no mockery. There was only a silent question.
"Well, what? Do you still want to play with me?"
And in the icy silence of the courtyard, under the girl's rapt gaze and Ragnar's humiliated sigh, Queen suddenly realized with terrible clarity that they had never been in control of the situation. They just thought they were in control.
Azrael was just waiting for the right moment to show them who was really the boss here.