Consent pending.
Seraphine hadn't seized her.
She'd filed a path.
A path Astra had just fed with public terms.
Astra cursed softly.
Kael's hand—still not on her collar—closed around her wrist, firm enough to be felt, not enough to bruise.
"Astra," he said, low and controlled, "look at me."
Astra met his eyes.
He was furious.
He was scared.
He was here.
"You don't bargain with Seraphine alone again," Kael said.
Astra's mouth curved, sharp. "That's an order."
Kael's jaw flexed. "That's a boundary."
Heat flared—intense, intimate, dangerous.
Astra leaned in a fraction, voice low. "Consent, remember?"
Kael's throat worked. His grip loosened slightly, acknowledging.
"Then," Kael said, forcing the words into chosen shape, "tell me before you put your throat under another claimant."
Astra's breath hitched.
That was a request.
Not ownership.
Not a leash.
Astra nodded once. "Agreed."
Lyra made a soft sound of amusement. "Adorable."
Kael's eyes cut to her, lethal. "Leave."
Lyra's smile sharpened. "And miss the part where she decides whose hand gets to hold the pen? No."
Astra finally looked at Lyra—cold, burning. "You were the safe signal."
Lyra lifted a brow. "Yes."
Astra's voice went low. "You drew the Guild."
Lyra didn't deny it. "I warned you I draw attention."
Astra stepped closer to Lyra until the air between them felt like a knife laid flat. "You didn't warn me you and Meros knew each other."
Lyra's eyes glittered. "Everyone knows someone."
Astra's mouth tightened. "Did you route Seraphine too."
Lyra's smile thinned. "Seraphine doesn't need routing. She follows sin like perfume."
Kael's jaw clenched, and Astra felt his anger spike—protective, possessive, restrained.
Astra didn't like it.
She did like how it made her feel wanted without being owned.
Astra turned away from Lyra and focused inward, forcing herself into strategy.
They had escaped the cart.
Kael was still himself.
But the witness seal remained.
Seraphine's claim was now active.
Dorian's owner channel was listening.
And the Guild had already flagged Astra hostile.
Her options were shrinking into corridors.
Astra's interface flickered again.
GUILD WITNESS SEAL: HANDSHAKE REQUEST — LUMEN AUTHORITYNOTE: CROSS-VALIDATION MAY REDUCE HOSTILE STATUS
Cross-validation.
Guild and Church could handshake.
Statute and sanctity could align.
If they did, Astra would be trapped between them with a clean "resolution."
Astra's blood ran ice.
Orin saw her face and swore. "What."
Astra swallowed. "The seal is asking to validate sanctity."
Juno's eyes widened. "It can do that."
Lyra's smile returned, bright and cruel. "Of course it can. That's how the Empire stays tidy."
Kael's voice went low, dangerous. "If they handshake, we're done."
Astra clenched her jaw.
She could refuse the handshake.
But refusal might trigger broadcast.
She could accept.
But acceptance would lower hostile status and tighten custody.
She could write herself a block clause—if she dared.
Trace already screaming.
Audit lock already partial.
Every write now would be noticed.
But noticed didn't mean dead.
Not yet.
Astra exhaled slowly and opened Write(Self) in her mind, hands shaking.
Kael's eyes sharpened. "Astra—"
Astra met his gaze and made it explicit, breath warming his jaw without touching.
"I'm writing," she whispered. "Consent?"
Kael's jaw clenched. Fear flared in his eyes—fear of watching her spike again.
Then he nodded once, grim. "Yes. One."
Astra's heart punched.
"One."
She carved the line with shaking precision:
IF GUILD SEAL REQUESTS CROSS-VALIDATION WITH LUMEN → REQUIRE ASTRA'S VERBAL CONFIRMATION IN PRIVATE
Not refusal.
Not rebellion.
A privacy requirement.
A consent gate.
A small knife that could stall a handshake long enough to move.
Pain hit immediately—bright, invasive. Astra's breath cracked.
She swallowed it and stayed upright.
Her interface flashed.
WRITE (SELF): COMMITTEDTRACE: 78%+GUILD SEAL: HANDSHAKE REQUEST — PENDING VERBAL CONFIRMATION (PRIVATE)
The seal hummed, displeased.
But it stopped trying to join hands without her.
Astra exhaled hard.
Kael's voice was rough at her ear. "Breathe."
Astra breathed.
Lyra watched with hungry admiration. "You just made a Guild seal ask permission."
Astra's voice was flat. "Yes."
Lyra's smile sharpened. "That's not normal."
Astra wiped blood from her lip with the back of her hand. "Neither am I."
Orin swore. "Your trace."
Astra's eyes burned. "I know."
Kael's hand—still on her wrist—tightened for a heartbeat, then loosened like he remembered again: no leash.
His voice dropped low, intimate and furious. "You're going to get audit-locked."
Astra met his eyes. "Not before I decide what I am."
Heat flared between them—consent and command braided into something dangerous.
Kael's gaze flicked to her mouth, then away, like he was refusing to let himself want in the middle of blood and law.
Astra leaned in a fraction, voice soft enough to be private.
"After this," Astra murmured, "we settle what you are to me."
Kael's throat worked. "Not now."
Astra's smile was sharp. "Not now."
But the promise hung there anyway, hot and hungry.
Then the room's muffled air shuddered—faint, clean pressure pressing against the pocket's edges.
Orin's face went pale. "They found the pocket."
Lyra's eyes glittered. "Or they found your seal."
Astra's throat burned as the witness seal vibrated—excited, eager to report "safe signal."
Her interface flashed a line that made her stomach drop:
PRIVATE VERBAL CONFIRMATION REQUESTED — SOURCE: LUMEN AUTHORITY.
Seraphine was calling through the seal.
Not a door knock.
Not a hymn in the street.
A private request through Astra's throat.
Astra swallowed.
Kael's voice went low, lethal. "Don't answer."
Astra's mouth went dry.
Because the request was "private," and Astra's new clause required privacy for cross-validation.
If she answered, she might stall the handshake on her terms.
If she refused, the seal could interpret it as hostile and broadcast again.
Dorian's silk laughter brushed her nerves, warm and patient.
"Answer her," he murmured. "Let's see who wins your throat."
Astra lifted her chin, pain still bright under her skin, and stared at the prompt pulsing in her vision like a heartbeat.
Then she heard Seraphine's voice—not in the room, but inside the seal's channel, soft as confession and sharp as a knife:
"Astra Vey," Seraphine whispered, "do you want sanctuary… or do you want vengeance?"