She shoved her way past much larger figures toward the front of the crowd, dark curls bouncing with each step. At odds among the uniformed Guardians, she wore her regular blouse, and her long skirt swished around her ankles as she stomped up the stairs. She stopped a foot from Fraschkit and tipped her head back to glare up at the Guardian Leader.

"There is no fucking slave bond," she said. "That's just something Guardians made up to explain why not all humans love them. You all would rather believe the Demons forced us to their side than admit the truth."

Fraschkit glanced at Ranndu, who avoided her eyes. With a frown, she turned back toward Zuzette. "What truth?"

"That you failed us."

Fraschkit stared at the woman in front of her. After a few beats of silence, she shook her head and breathed an uncomfortable laugh. "Who are you, exactly? And what do you know about Demons?"

"I'm Zuzette. I served the Demons at the palace for eight years."

A murmur passed over the crowd—not quite the condemnation Isalio had faced, but ample confusion and unease. I was surprised Zuzette had admitted that fact so easily. Earlier, she had seemed to fear the Guardians learning the truth, but now she displayed the same haughty confidence she had emoted the first time I met her. Though she didn't even reach Fraschkit's shoulders, she propped her hands on her hips and puffed her chest.

"Served them, how?" asked Fraschkit.

"I worked in the gardens, mostly."

"Why?"

"It was a good job. Safe."

Fraschkit tempered her physical reaction, but her voice crackled with disbelief. "Good? Safe?"

Zuzette jerked a thumb toward Ranndu. "Which of us looks healthier?"

That drew a hiss of disgust from the crowd, but Ranndu merely shrugged his skeletal shoulders in agreement.

Fraschkit's voice strained. "Did you like serving Demons?"

"Did you like hiding underground while the Demons destroyed humanity?" When Fraschkit failed to answer, Zuzette continued. "I guess we all do what we have to do—the humans, the Guardians..." She tilted her head toward Isalio. "The Demons. Biggest difference is, Guardians somehow carry on acting superior, pretending to be fucking heroes."

"The Guardians have saved whoever we could."

"Whoever you could? Before my village was destroyed, we asked the Guardians for help. But you never came. You brave, noble heroes—the only ones powerful enough to stop the Demons—you were all hiding underground, torturing whoever you could capture."

Fraschkit's jaw clenched. While I could understand Zuzette's anger, I also felt a surge of defensiveness on Fraschkit's behalf. Or maybe it was on my own behalf. Fraschkit and I had both made those complaints at Council meetings. We both had followed orders because we believed in our team and respected Leader Rakimar, but neither of us had been content to stay underground while humans died. And at one point, neither of us had wanted to torture Isalio. She had once said almost the same words I had in Isalio's defense.

'If we torture and kill him, what sets us apart from the Demons?'

Of course, that was before we had confirmed his guilt. Now Isalio, with his nonchalant affirmations of atrocities committed, was all but forcing her hand.

Like she had done in so many Council Meetings, Fraschkit drew a breath and released the tension in her jaw. "I'm sorry about your village, Zuzette. But if the Guardians didn't help, it's because we knew we stood no chance. We needed to wait until the right moment to make our stand."

"The right moment? It's been fourteen fucking years, and humanity has lost nearly everything."

"But the Demons are the ones who have destroyed humanity. And yet, you serve them. You serve the very monsters who slaughtered your people."

"Unfortunately, not all of us could just keep singing praises for the Guardians as we died one-by-one."

Fraschkit shook her head. "Do you have any idea what you—I wish I could believe you were slave-bonded, to excuse this... this..."

"Of course you want to believe that," Zuzette spat. She jabbed a finger toward Fraschkit. "You don't want anything to get in the way of your self-adoration. I bet Guardians don't even need a sex partner. They are so good at worshiping themselves that they just—"

Fraschkit straightened her shoulders and took one step toward Zuzette, accentuating their height difference. Zuzette teetered back a step and raised her hands as if to defend herself.

And with that, the dynamic shifted.

They were no longer two equals sparring but rather a powerful leader bearing down upon a helpless villager. Though Zuzette quickly dropped her hands and recovered her former stance, the truth became obvious to all watching: behind Zuzette's bold-faced claims, she knew the Guardians here could easily torture or kill her, and she feared they might actually do it.

Fraschkit rocked back a step, expression stricken. "Zuzette, you don't... you're not..." She cleared her throat. "You know we're not going to hurt you, right?"

Zuzette crossed her arms under her ample bust. I had seen her assume this posture in defiance before, but this was different. She was hugging herself. "Why not?"

"You're not our enemy. You did what you had to do to survive, but now you're on our side."

Zuzette studied Fraschkit, appearing to fully consider her for the first time. Then she pointed at Isalio and spoke more quietly than before. "Same with him."

Out of everything that had happened during the trial, this caused the most conflicted reaction. Anger and disgust colored most responses, but I heard a few contemplative hums. Fraschkit stood statue-still for a minute, eyes fastened to Zuzette and mouth slightly ajar. Then her gaze shifted past Zuzette to lock on Isalio.

"What do you have to say about this?" Fraschkit asked him. "Is Zuzette telling the truth?"

Her voice was quieter than before; probing. This was no longer a formality. She really wanted to hear his answer. I focused on his downturned head, willing him to give a better answer than his previous ones.

Without lifting his head, he said, "Zuzette is innocent. I'm not."

I hissed an exhale. I still wanted to protect him, but fuck, I wanted to throttle him too. Zuzette and I had both risked our own wellbeings for his sake; the least he could do was cooperate. What game was he playing?

Thankfully, his words that should have sealed the guilty verdict did not seem to affect Fraschkit much. In fact, she looked increasingly perplexed, gaze shifting slowly between Zuzette and Isalio... and finally, to me. I wasn't sure what she hoped to find on my face, but she had always been good at reading me, so I just hoped she found whatever she needed to see. Her eyes flickered with indecision, and her teeth pinched her lower lip. But when she addressed the full crowd once more, her words rang confident.

"It is my belief that we do not have sufficient information to proceed with this trial. At this time, keeping this Demon under our watch is safer than making any rash decision. Should the Queen and King find us, we can use him for negotiation. Otherwise, we will continue to gather information from anyone willing to share—hopefully including this Demon."

A few voices rang out in protest, but Fraschkit did not even bother to acknowledge them. She motioned toward Kardki and the other Guardian who had brought Isalio onto the stage.

"Take him to a secure cell," Fraschkit commanded. "He will remain there in two cuffs with at least two Guardians watching until further notice. As for the rest of you"—she swept out a hand to indicate the crowd—"sleep well tonight. Tomorrow, we will train together and plan our next moves."

As I watched Kardki and another Guardian haul Isalio off the stage, I couldn't help noticing his every wince, his every flinch, and the icy, overly-guarded expression he wore, similar to the one he had projected during the dinner with his parents. I was irritated—no, more than irritated—at his utter uselessness through the entire trial. But that irritation could not compete with the desperate instinct that was the most Guardian instinct of all and yet put me at odds with the entire rest of my race.

No matter what else came, I needed to protect this man.

Half of the crowd appeared aggravated by Fraschkit's order, and some muttered complaints just loud enough to carry across the plaza. Luckily, none of the others dared to actually approach the new Guardian Leader. I pushed past the rest of the crowd and circled the stage to meet Fraschkit just as she hopped off the back.

When I stepped in front of her, her eyes flashed in warning. "Now is not the time, Remgar."

"I need to see him."

"He's being taken to a cell. That's the minimum precaution I can demand."

"I know—I'm asking you to let me go with him. You asked for Guardians to watch over him. Let me be one of them."

"Fuck, Remgar, are you seriously suggesting..." She blew out a breath and raked a hand through her messy red locks. "Of course you are. Of course you'd ask for that. But you saw how the crowd reacted. Even you must realize you've pushed this far enough already."

It was not the time for stupid hurt feelings, but with my father's attack still fresh in my mind, I couldn't help the sting in my chest. "Even me? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Remgar..." She clapped my shoulder, a familiar gesture that calmed me a little—but only a little, since the gesture was far more stilted than ever before. "You're an admirable man, and an admirable Guardian. No one is doubting that. I just worry that you're..."

"Slave-bonded?"

"No." She cast a glance toward the stage, and her jaw pushed forward. I wondered if she was looking at Zuzette and remembering the spirited human's testimony. "It's just, Demons can be very persuasive, and..."

"What, Fraschkit? Speak plainly."

"You're confused, Remgar."

That was a hard accusation to dispute. Fuck, she was right—I was incredibly confused. But while my thoughts and feelings were scattered and conflicted, my gut and heart tugged on me with relentless, irresistible force.

"You saw the crowd's reactions," I said. "If I don't watch over him tonight, someone might take matters into their own hands. You yourself said watching over him is safer than letting him die. Post Guardians at the entryway—however many you want—and keep him cuffed, if you think it's necessary. But let me stay in the cell."

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "How would I explain your presence to anyone else?"

"Tell them the truth. Tell them you need the Demon alive, and I'm there to make sure he survives until morning. Tell them you're keeping the keys to the cuffs, and other Guardians are posted at the door, so there is no risk."

"I really, really want to trust you, Remgar..."

"But?"

Her eyes reopened, she released a long, vocalized exhale. "Fine." She pointed toward the path where Kardki had dragged Isalio moments earlier. "Go to him."