“And if I refuse?”
She tilted her head, a practiced neutrality settling over her expression, but I could still see the tightness in her jaw.
“Then they’ll assume guilt,” she said, and I felt the floor beneath me tilt slightly.
I looked down at my hands, clasped too tightly in my lap. I hadn’t realized how hard I was gripping my fingers until the skin turned pale. “So I walk in there and pretend like this is fair?”
“This isn’t about fair, Elara,” she replied quietly. “It’s about surviving the system.”
I glanced up. “That system is the one Cyrus built.”
The Council liaison didn’t argue. She just rose from the couch and smoothed her skirt, brushing imaginary lint from her sleeve. “You have seventy-two hours to prepare. You’ll be given a statement window, a behavioral assessment, and an
