"You are nothing but a shadow," Ginevra snapped as the execution blade arced. "Say that again," I answered, not a plea. My voice cut through the Terrace like a thrown stone. "She speaks," the court murmured. "She always did have a loud mouth for someone who owes everything," Ginevra said. Her smile was slow, sure. She held the silk of her sleeve tight, as if she were still toyed by a thought she owned. The priest lifted the blade higher. Cold metal flashed. I felt the knot at my throat—my root—press into my skin under ceremonial cords. "Hugo," I said into the court. "Will you stop her?" He did nothing. A silence spread until someone near the railing sneered and then laughed. Ginevra's smile widened. "Why should he?" she asked, speaking to Hugo more than to me. "He keeps me because I serve the Expanse. I keep the order. You were only ever a lesson." "I served," I said. "I learned. I gave you nothing you could not take from another." "Exactly," she said. "You give so well you make a bed for others." The blade came down. Pain exploded across the knot. Fire licked where the root tore. I had expected less from the ritual; the priests made it neat so everyone could witness the legitimate severing. They wanted to prove a point. Ginevra leaned forward. "See how easily life untangles from a thread?" "Jordan," I heard someone shout behind me. Jordan pushed through the court