The throne hall felt smaller.
The walls pressed inward, heavy with expectation, with judgment already decided. Nobles whispered behind gloved hands, their gazes cutting deeper than blades.
Aelira stood alone at the center of the hall.
No chains.
No guards.
Yet she had never felt more caged.
"Bring forth the witnesses," Queen Seraphine commanded gently.
Gently.
As if she were not ordering a public execution of truth.
The first witness stepped forward—a young guard, barely more than a boy. His armor did not fit him properly. His hands shook as he bowed.
"State your name," the queen said.
"T-Tarin, Your Majesty."
Aelira recognized him.
She had bandaged his arm once. Had smiled at him when no one else noticed him at all.
"Tarin," the queen continued, "did you see Princess Aelira use forbidden magic?"
The boy swallowed hard.
"Yes," he said.
The word fell like a stone.
Aelira felt something sharp pierce her chest.
Not rage.
Disappointment.
"Describe what you saw," Lord Viremont pressed.
The boy's eyes flicked toward the nobles. Toward the queen. Toward the guards lining the walls.
"I saw shadows," he said. "Moving. Like living things. They came from her."
Gasps rippled through the hall.
Aelira closed her eyes for a brief moment.
In her first life, this had been enough.
"Did she command them?" the queen asked.
"Yes," the boy said quickly. Too quickly. "They obeyed her."
Aelira opened her eyes again.
"Tarin," she said quietly.
The hall stilled.
The queen frowned. "You will not speak unless permitted—"
"Do you remember," Aelira continued, her voice trembling just enough to sound human, "the night you burned your hand on the training brazier?"
The boy stiffened.
"I brought you salve," she said. "You cried because you thought you'd be dismissed."
Murmurs spread.
The boy's lips parted. His breath came shallow.
"You told me," Aelira whispered, "that you wanted to become a knight who protected people. Not hurt them."
Tears welled in Tarin's eyes.
Lord Viremont slammed his staff against the floor. "This is irrelevant!"
"Is it?" Aelira asked, finally turning toward him. "Or is it inconvenient?"
The queen raised her hand. "Princess, you will not intimidate a witness."
"I'm not," Aelira said softly. "I'm reminding him who he was."
The boy broke.
"I—I didn't mean—" Tarin's voice cracked. "They told me I'd be executed if I didn't say it. They said my family—"
The hall erupted.
"What did you say?" the king demanded, rising to his feet.
Tarin fell to his knees. "I never saw her command anything! The chamber was already breaking. I was afraid—I'm sorry—!"
Lord Viremont turned pale.
The queen's smile froze.
Aelira felt it then.
The crack.
Small.
But real.
"Enough," the queen said sharply. "This witness is clearly confused."
"No," the king said, voice low. "He is terrified."
Silence followed.
Aelira looked down at Tarin, her expression unreadable.
"You may go," she said quietly.
As guards escorted the sobbing boy away, the hall buzzed with uncertainty.
One lie had unraveled.
Just one.
But lies were like threads.
Pull one—
And the whole tapestry trembled.
Aelira lifted her gaze to the queen.
Her voice was steady.
"Shall we hear the next witness?"