“Bring her," Andrew said.
Boots scraped stone. Guards dragged Yvonne in, wrists bound, scarf gone, hair frayed. She still tried to make the room soft around her with that wet-eyed tremble.
The joint tribunal sat rigid: elders in dark coats on one side, Garran and two Snowstorm officers on the other. Lucas stood behind them, calm and unreadable. Dr. Hayes had a pencil and a headache. Wilson faced the table with a jaw that no longer hid its work. Veronica sat nearest the door, posture straight, mask on the table like a coin.
The clerk read the charges. “Conspiracy with rogues. Providing maps and schedules. Attempted poisoning of the Head Guard. Breach of parley protection."
“Guilty," Mira whispered from the witness bench, voice shaking as she described packets, maps, instructions.
Yvonn
