Read Chapter 36: The Trial

The great hall of the Academy had never felt so cold. Elara stood at the edge of the raised dais, her hands clasped behind her back to keep them from trembling, as the Council of Elders filed into their seats beneath the towering stained-glass window. The morning light filtered through the image of the first dragon riders, casting rainbows across the stone floor—and across the iron cage where Voss stood, wrists bound, her silver hair unkempt but her chin held high.

The hall was packed. Every noble family with a stake in the old order had sent representatives. The Delacroix seat was conspicuously empty, but Elara noted the family's steward scribbling furiously in the back row. Beside her, Aldric placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"You've done the hard part," he murmured. "Justice is the easier road."

Elara wasn't sure she believed him. Voss had been silent for the entire ride back—no taunts, no threats, just that unnerving calm. It was the calm of someone who knew something the world did not.

The head elder, a woman named Seraphine with silver braids coiled like sleeping serpents, rose to address the assembly. Her voice carried the weight of centuries. "We are gathered to pass judgment on Aurelia Voss, formerly of the Voss dragon-collaring dynasty, accused of theft of royal dragon eggs, conspiracy against the Crown, and the attempted corruption of our sacred bond with the dragons."

Voss laughed. It was a sharp, brittle sound that cut through the hall's solemnity. "Accused? I did all of it. I've done worse. And I'd do it again."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Seraphine's expression hardened. "You speak lightly of crimes that have brought our order to the brink of extinction."

"Extinction?" Voss's eyes found Elara's, and for a moment, the room fell away. "The dragons were never in danger from me. They're in danger from *her*—from all of you, pretending you can cage something wild and call it sacred."

Elara stepped forward. The locket against her chest pulsed with warmth, and she felt Aurielia's presence pressing at the edges of her mind. "I found thirty-two eggs in Voss's saddlebags. Twenty-one were from the queen's clutch. The rest belonged to wild nests—raided by the Hollow Claw at her command, in a scheme that stretched across three kingdoms." She turned to face the assembly, her voice clear and unbroken. "But this isn't just about eggs. It's about what the Voss family has done for four hundred years."

"I'll save you the speech," Voss interrupted. "My great-great-grandmother collared the first dragon. Every generation after her refined the process—the silver rings, the obedience songs, the selective breeding that made dragons docile enough for nobles to ride. We didn't steal the dragons' magic. We *harnessed* it." She rattled the bars of her cage. "And you all profited. Every estate, every title, every flag flying in this hall was raised on dragon blood."

Silence. Elara saw the truth land across the room—the flushed faces of lords who'd ridden collared dragons to war, the averted gazes of ladies who wore dragon-scale jewelry, the stiff postures of elders who'd sanctioned the practice for generations.

"Your family's empire ended the day I bonded with Aurielia," Elara said quietly. "The collars are gone. The dragons are free."

Voss smiled. It was not a pleasant expression. "Free?" She leaned close to the bars. "You think freedom is an egg returned to a hatchery? You think Aurielia chose you because of some sacred destiny?" Her laugh was low, almost sad. "She chose you because you're the last vessel of a broken bloodline. The Aethelwards were never dragon keepers, girl. They were the *first* collarmakers."

The words hit Elara like a physical blow. The locket burned against her chest, and for a moment, the hall swam. "That's a lie."

"Is it?" Voss's voice turned soft, intimate. "Your mother, poor Maerwynn, she tried to destroy the knowledge. Burned the books, scattered the Aethelward line to the winds. But she couldn't destroy what's in your blood. The same gift that lets you bond with Aurielia is the gift that made her wild ancestors kneel to mine." She lifted her bound wrists, gesturing at the room. "I'm not your enemy, Elara. I'm your mirror."

"Enough." Aldric's voice thundered. He stepped between Elara and the cage, his face carved from stone. "The accused will confine herself to testimony, not poison."

But Elara barely heard him. The locket had grown heavy, its warmth now a scalding pulse. She pressed her hand to it, grounding herself. *Aurielia,* she thought, reaching for the queen's mind. *Is it true?*

Silence. Then, a presence like embers stirring in ash. *Half-truths, bonded. But she speaks of our beginning, not our end.*

Elara's shoulders loosened. She raised her hand to quiet the hall. "Bring the testimony forward. Let the court hear the full history—the collaring songs, the forced breedings, the children of the Aethelward line who were sold alongside their dragons."

Voss watched her with something approaching respect. "You're smarter than your mother gave you credit for."

"Don't speak of her."

"Why not? She raised you in a stable, hid you among horses, told you nothing of your legacy. I knew Maerwynn. I was there when she fled." Voss tilted her head. "She didn't run to protect you from us. She ran to protect you from knowing that your ancestors butchered the first dragons to make the collars work."

The hall erupted. Elara let the noise wash over her, felt Aldric's hand on her arm, felt Cedric's gaze burning from the front row. But she kept her eyes on Voss, watching for the flicker beneath the bravado.

"You're lying," Elara said firmly. "You told me the Aethelward line were keepers because you think it'll make me doubt my bond. But you forget—I've *seen* Aurielia's memories. I've felt the fear and the rage of every collared dragon your family broke. And I've seen the truth that you can't erase: they forgave us. They chose to bond again, knowing what we'd done."

Voss's mask cracked, just for an instant. Something raw flashed through her eyes—loss, or grief.

"Because they had no choice," Voss whispered. "You gave them hope, and hope is the cruelest collar of all."

Seraphine raised her gavel. "The court has heard enough. Aurelia Voss, you are sentenced to life imprisonment in the Obsidian Keep, where you will have no contact with dragons, no access to the songs, and no hope of flight." She brought the gavel down. "Guards, remove her."

As the iron cage rattled open, Voss fixed Elara with one last look. "You think you've won," she said, her voice carrying through the silent hall. "But a Voss never bends. And a dragon never truly serves." She let the guards take her arms, dragging her toward the door. "Enjoy your victory, Keeper. Enjoy your freedom."

The doors slammed shut. But Voss's final words lingered in the air, a curse woven into the silence.

"Your dragons will never fly free."

Elara stood frozen. The hall slowly dissolved into murmurs and movements, nobles rising to leave, elders conferring in hushed tones. Aldric was saying something to her, his voice distant. Cedric had pushed through the crowd, his face pale.

"Elara." Cedric's hand found hers. "You look unwell. Let me get you out of here."

She nodded, letting him guide her through the dispersing crowd. But as she reached the great hall's threshold, the locket on her chest pulsed—not with warmth, but with a cold, sharp ache.

She glanced down. Through the thin gold filigree, she saw a vision: a wide valley spread out below her, hundreds of dragons circling above a battlement of white stone. And in the vision, one by one, the creatures plummeted from the sky.

Elara's blood turned to ice. She looked up at Cedric.

"I need to get to the hatchery. Now."