She took a step toward the dais, her chains rattling with a sudden, violent authority. "You never asked what moved while you were watching me. You never asked who was signing the orders in the provinces while you were here, debating the morality of my sins."
The realization hit Soren like a physical blow. The trial was never about her defense. It was never about her escaping. She had wanted this trial.
She had provoked him into it. She had needed the spectacle to ensure every Duke, every General, and every Magistrate was trapped in the capital, leaving the rest of the world to the mercy of her network.
The trial wasn't a punishment; it was a distraction. It was the shroud she had thrown over the world while she cut its throat.
"The trial," Vetra whispered, her eyes locking onto Soren's with a terrifying, calm satisfaction, "was never for me."
