I disliked the term protective custody. Davis would call it contamination.
Olafsen bowed his head. “Yes, Madam.”
The eldest elder turned back to me. “The restrictions are as follows. You’ll remain within the compound. You’ll have access to the public-zone library, conference suites, and your quarters. You won’t have access to the seaward grounds. You’ll be escorted at all times by your assigned enforcer. Your communications will be monitored.”
The restriction had been dressed as containment and was too convenient to be accidental. Ashenmere could say I was controlled. Dominic could say I was protected. Everyone got to keep their preferred fiction intact.
A gift to him. A loophole for them.
The elder watched me as if she expected me to argue.
I would. Just not yet.
“The arrangement isn’t a punishment,” she said. “It’s the political minimum that allows the Norwegian delegation to remain on this continent without filing for war.”
“Understood.”
“You may go.”
I stood.
As I walked the length of the table, I kept my eyes ahead and forced myself not to look at Dominic. The bond read every step I took toward the door and made a small, unhelpful pang at my walking away from him.
The deputy escorted me out, and the door closed behind us.
The corridor outside the council chamber was empty. A moment later, Yuki came out. “Council deliberates Tuesday morning,” she said, already moving past me. “You have until then.”
She didn’t wait for an answer.
Naturally.
She turned the corner and was gone.
Tuesday. Four days.
The deputy led me away from the chamber, toward whatever passed for my new quarters.
We had made it around the second corner when someone stepped out of a side office and stopped us.
Bjorn Solberg.
The deputy looked at him. He looked at her. She stepped back two paces and turned toward the wall, present enough to count as an escortand absent enough to pretend she couldn’t hear.
Still in the corridor. Apparently not in the conversation.
Weird.
Bjorn’s eyes came back to me. “Miss Cordero.”
“Lord Solberg.”
“The dressing on the claim.” His voice was lower than Rhain’s and quieter. He spoke slowly, as if every word had been chosen before he approached me. “Have it changed before you sleep. The night staff knows what to bring.”
“Thank you.”
His eyes moved over my face. Searching.
For what, I had no idea. The damage had already been done. The blood was visible. The bond was sealed. The politics were awake and chewing through the furniture.