The winter orchard held no table.
Vespera Morcant had refused one when the estate workers offered.
A table would have made the meeting look negotiable.
She stood between two rows of cut trees with Maelis Morcant and Sable Wythe. Six workers waited near the path; two guards stood by the orchard wall.
Tavian Roarke arrived at noon carrying the same document case.
His car remained outside the western gate.
He crossed the orchard under escort. His eyes found Vespera and stayed there.
Sable checked the watch at her wrist. “Ten minutes.”
Tavian stopped several paces away. “I did not agree to a healer setting the time.”
“You invoked access to an injured Omega,” Sable said. “You receive injured-Omega rules.”
“This is a mate hearing.”
“No registrar is present,” Vespera said. “This is the
