We didn’t kill them.
That was the first mistake the Council made.
They assumed death was the only language power spoke.
The assassins were bound and gagged, roots retracting just enough to let them breathe—but not enough to move. Ronan stood guard while I crouched in front of the one I’d frozen earlier, studying his face in the moonlight.
He couldn’t meet my eyes.
“Who sent you?” I asked calmly.
Silence.
I tilted my head slightly. “If you were ordered by the Council as a whole, you’d already be dead. They don’t leave witnesses when unity is intact.”
His breath hitched.
So I continued, voice gentle.
“This wasn’t a vote,” I said. “It was permission given quietly. By someone who wanted deniability.”
His eyes flicked up—just once.
Enough.
Ronan caught it.
“Councilwoman Seris,” he
