The courtroom was filled before dawn.
Merchants, minor lords, and curious townsfolk crammed the benches, eager for spectacle. A family dispute over land and vaults was nothing new, but when the name Mendez was whispered, people came. The dynasty was old, wealthy, and infamous. No one wanted to miss its downfall.
Tristan stood near the front, Shannon at his side, Kim and Mira behind them. His palms sweated despite the cool stone chamber.
Across the chamber, a quiet movement caught Tristan's eye.
On the far benches, half-veiled by the curve of the gallery, sat Lady Arriane Virelanth.
Her silver hair gleamed beneath the lantern light, and her hands were folded neatly in her lap. She did not gasp, did not lean forward like the others. She watched with the cool intensity of someone who already knew what was coming… or who simply enjoyed watching the Mendez family tear itself apart.
Her eyes flicked briefly to Tristan. Not Troy. Not Terry. Him.
