"Agreed," Viktor said, before the loyalists could howl, before Nymeria could fire an arrow into the proceedings, before the court could draw breath. "Three dawns. First light. Before the world tree."
The court split along its three seams in full view, roaring, and the elder of the rites, visibly aged by the morning, lowered the ceremonial branch and declared the rite suspended pending trial by combat, and ten thousand elves began arguing at once.
Nymeria delivered the custody conditions personally, because she was the only guard in the realm whose word both sides trusted, and because the alternative was letting her stand in the court with a loaded bow and a stolen duel.
She found Sylviana in the custody chamber, out of the ceremonial gown, attended by handmaids she did not trust, and the princess was... serene.
Serene was the wrong word for how calm Sylviana was. She sat like a woman waiting for a carriage, hands folded, actually pouring tea.
