“You’re asking us to let her walk?” one elder hissed, slamming his palm on the council table.“No,” Albert said calmly. “I’m asking you to let her *speak*.”Storm Ridge’s council chamber crackled with tension. The fire in the hearth burned low. Mira stood in the shadows, arms crossed, eyes sharp.At the center stood Emerie—calm, composed, wounded, and standing anyway.“She led rogues to your gates,” a second elder snapped. “She betrayed her bloodline—”“She’s *not* asking for reinstatement,” Allan interrupted, voice firm. “She’s here to tell the truth.”Emerie raised her chin. “And to accept whatever comes after.”The council went still.---Later, in the outer chamber, Emerie waited beside Albert, her hand resting on the locket at her collarbone.Allan approached slowly, no longer in ceremonial robes—just a dark tunic, eyes tired.“I don’t expect you to thank me,” he said quietly.“I wasn’t going to,” Emerie replied without malice.He exhaled. “Y
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