The spell of the square broke like glass.
People scattered, instinct and training and panic mixing into a single improvised choreography: children were scooped up, merchants shoved shutters closed, priests pushed the princess back, and guards — K.P.P. and others — poured into motion, drawing lines of defense around Lily with un-worldly efficiency.
Solis felt the world narrow to sharp, immediate acts. Ada shoved him down behind a low stone bench. He heard the sphere clatter on the paving, bounced once, and began to emit a higher tik-tik, faster now.
Razille's eyes flickered toward Solis for a moment — an impossible question and apology in one brief blink. She moved as if to reach for the fallen sphere, and Orsic's nearest aide, faster than anyone, kicked it further into the crowd. The tik-tik sped up.
Solis's heart hammered. Old training took over: hands on weapon handles though he did not draw, listening for the sound when it would change from ticking to something like release.
Nearby, Captain Seraphine barked into the air. "Everyone back! Evacuate the ring immediately!" Her voice was command; her posture was a blade of cold steel. The K.P.P and knights and the representatives of other units immediately formed a sheltering line around the princess; some of them — Devon included — moved with two purposes: protect the royal party and keep civilians safe. Even Orsic barked orders, terse and adamant, his voice cutting like a whetstone.
Ada grabbed Solis by the wrist. "We can't just stand here."
He felt the sword at his back like a question, heavier and more urgent than anything. He wanted to run forward, to cradle the pink thing and prove it harmless, to shout that Raz would never betray them — but he also understood the risk. If it was a bomb — or an enchantment — stepping forward without assessment would throw people into danger.
Solis crawled on his knees under the bench, eyes fixed on where the sphere had rolled. People were moving frantically now: a vendor tried to herd a cluster of children, a pair of Borderknights raised a shield to form a human barricade, and the priests linked arms in a living chain in a strange, instinctive prayer.
Razille's hands were empty, but she stood frozen as if some part of her life had been a breath away from being shattered. Her jaw worked, then she turned and shoved into the Postknight line, pushing through until she was nearly at Solis's side.
"Don't come near!" Orsic barked as Razille approached. His voice was a cliff. But Razille's eyes met Solis's with something raw and private — a plea, a warning, and perhaps a confession that she had expected this outcome more than she would admit.
Solis heard someone shout far off, a priest's voice rising over the chaos: "Remember Eloin's way! Protect the innocent!"
The sphere's tik-tik accelerated again. Then, with a sound like a sigh through a reed, the ticking stopped.
Nothing — no bloom of flame, no concussive roar. The square held a single breath. The crowd's collective inhalation was a living thing.
Slowly, a K.P.P lieutenant moved from the guarding line and, with a hooked pole used for pulling heavy carriage wheels, nudged the sphere aside and rolled it to the foot of a brazier where a guard crouched and placed it under a thick leather cover.
The cover muffled the sound.
A man in an airknight uniform who had kept his composure stepped forward with a small jeweled tool — a deactivation probe used to nullify crude enchantments. He bent and inspected. For a long breathless minute, every face turned.
It was a test of nerves, a measure of restraint. Orsic watched with a taut jaw. Devon's presence was a rock near the shore—steady and waiting.
At last the probe clicked. The tool's light flashed. The airknight straightened and gave a curt nod.
"It's inert," he announced. "No active detonation or malevolent enchantment detected."
The crowd's relief came out like a single, long exhale. Children began to laugh in spluttering bursts; a vendor collapsed against his stall, hands trembling. The priests murmured a vow and raised voices to fill the space again with prayer.
For a moment that felt like the hinge between two different worlds, Razille stood and faced them all: the Princess, Orsic, the K.P.P. line, and Solis. Her shoulders were square, her face as unreadable as it had always been.
The relief had hardly settled before Orsic's voice cut through it like an axe on ice.
"Arrest her."
The words were simple but heavy.
Two K.P.P. guards moved forward in unison, their polished armor glinting against the brazier's light. They seized Razille's arms. She did not fight them, did not even flinch. Her eyes remained level, distant, as though she had already accepted the outcome long before the orb had been revealed.
"Commander, wait—" Seraphine stepped forward, her voice low but sharp. "The device was inert. There's no evidence she intended—"
Orsic snapped around on her, his features carved into disdain. "You think intent matters when she carried a ticking orb into the princess's path? Postknight or no, that's treason cloaked in disguise of duty."
The crowd stirred, murmurs threading through like snakes in grass. Postknight. The word was no longer shielded by honor in their voices — it was tinged with suspicion.
Solis's breath stuck in his throat. He took a half-step, but Ada caught his sleeve. Her whisper pressed against his ear. "Don't. Not here. You'll only damn her further."
Razille turned her head slightly, just enough that Solis caught her profile. Her gaze was calm, but not resigned — as though she wanted him to see that she was letting this happen, that fighting here was not the place, not the time. A silent message that there was more to this than what they all saw.
The shackles clicked shut.
Princess Lily moved then, a delicate but deliberate step forward. Her voice was softer than Seraphine's or Devon's, but it carried in the sudden hush. "Commander Orsic. The orb was harmless. I would hear the courier's explanation before judgment is passed."
Orsic bowed stiffly, though his eyes remained hard. "Your Highness, my duty is your safety, not the innocence of those who endanger it. The king entrusted me to act without hesitation. And I will. The prisoner will be held, and her ties will be investigated."
Lily's lips parted, but Devon placed a hand over his chest and bowed. "Your Highness, allow the process. There will be answers, one way or another."
It was the only compromise the moment could bear.
Razille was led away under the eyes of the people, her Postknight colors bright against the iron of the shackles. Whispers followed her like arrows. A Postknight. With a bomb. In the princess's square. The story was already rewriting itself in every mouth, every thought.
Solis's fists clenched. He wanted to shout, to demand they look deeper. But Devon's earlier words echoed: Hold steady. The road teaches more than the books.
The square slowly reset itself. Guards dispersed, priests sang to soothe nerves, and merchants reopened shutters with trembling hands. But the air did not clear. It hung thick with doubt, the seed planted perfectly.