The General’s New Plaything- II

Aria's throat burned as she forced the words out, her voice wrecked from holding back screams. "She was terrified. Not for herself—" a ragged breath, "but for her child."

Somewhere in the room, someone sucked in a sharp breath. Good. Let them lean in, let them cling to every word like it would save them.

"She believed Archon Orlin would force her to discard the baby. And she loved someone else. A Kherosi man. No title, no power—just another disposable piece on the board. Someone she feared would meet an unfortunate 'accident' if the Archon found out."

She flicked her gaze to Orlin, watching the tension coil in his jaw like a predator sensing a trap. He was furious. And she was about to pour gasoline on that fire.

"I don't know how much truth there was to it," she continued, voice laced with something almost amused. "But I figured—why risk it? Wouldn't want an innocent child's fate decided by an overgrown, self-important tyrant with a God complex."

Orlin's jaw ticked. Beautiful.

Aria forced a breath, straightening despite the agony crackling down her spine. Every nerve screamed at her to shut up, but that wasn't an option.

"I acted on instinct. My only motive was to protect the unborn Kherosi child. That's all."

She let her eyes go wide, just enough to sell the performance—the perfect touch of shattered innocence. A flicker of something passed through General Selene's expression. It wasn't sympathy, but it wasn't indifference either.

Then Selene turned to Orlin.

"Did you know about the child, Archon?"

Orlin's lip curled, his rage seeping into his words like venom. "I suspected. But—"

Selene lifted a hand, silencing him with the ease of someone swatting away a gnat. "That will be enough."

Aria almost exhaled in relief. Almost. But she wasn't an idiot—she knew better than to let her guard drop. Instead, she lowered her head just enough to hide the ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips.

She had gambled. And won.

Or so she thought.

Selene's gaze snapped back to her, razor-sharp and unyielding. "Who is the father?"

A lump formed in Aria's throat. She swallowed, the movement slow, deliberate.

"Like I said before. Never saw him."

Silence stretched thin, tension snapping in the air like a live wire.

Then Darius spoke, his tone like the blade of a knife against stone.

"I wouldn't believe a damn word coming out of that lying mouth of hers."

"I'm not lying, General Darius."

Wrong answer.

Darius's patience shattered like glass.

He pushed off his chair, rising to his full, imposing height. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Without so much as a glance at her, he turned to the commander.

"Put the neuro-interrogator on her."

And just like that, things were about to get so much worse.

The neuro-interrogator.

Even the commander hesitated. Half a second of hesitation—barely noticeable, but Aria caught it. That alone told her everything she needed to know.

This wasn't standard punishment.

This was excessive.

A low mechanical whir filled the chamber as a hovering drone descended from the ceiling. It unfolded itself, its sleek, segmented limbs shifting into position, revealing the crown-like device attached beneath its core. Thin metal tendrils curled and flickered as if sensing the air—like it was alive.

Aria clenched her jaw.

Her arms were wrenched behind her back again, this time secured with an additional set of restraints. The commander didn't look at her, fastening the machine's headpiece around her skull with practiced efficiency. It locked into place with a sharp hiss, pressing cold metal plates against her temples, the base of her neck, and just above her ears.

Behind her, a screen blinked to life, floating mid-air. Lines of data scrolled rapidly—heartbeat, neural activity, pain levels.

"Neural sync initializing," the AI Recorder announced. "Interrogation mode active."

Aria swallowed.

She'd endured pain before. Broken bones, searing wounds, the kind of agony that left scars both inside and out.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

Darius sat forward slightly, eyes glinting with something dangerously close to satisfaction.

"Let's try this again. 1107, what was the paramour's identification number?"

Aria pressed her lips together.

The machine buzzed—and suddenly, her entire body seized.

Her head snapped back, a white-hot shockwave surging through her skull, setting her nerves on fire. It was like someone had reached into her mind, grabbed her spine, and wrung it out like a rag.

Her breath left her in a ragged, choked sound.

The pressure was unbearable. It wasn't just pain—it was like her thoughts themselves were being burned away, like her own mind was turning against her.

She barely registered the beeping—the bio-readings reacting to the spike in her neural activity.

But when the machine eased just enough for her to suck in a ragged breath. Her voice came out shaky, weak, but still defiant.

"I… don't know."

The screen flashed green.

The truth.

Darius's jaw ticked. He leaned forward.

"And the father?"

She barely had time to brace herself before the machine activated again.

Her back arched, fingers twitching violently against the restraints as another wave of searing electricity tore through her nervous system.

Black spots danced in her vision.

She could barely hear anything over the sound of her own racing pulse.

Through the haze, she knew her body wasn't handling this well. The machine was still experimental, and her pain receptors were overloaded. The screen flickered—some of her readings dropped dangerously low before the system recalibrated.

She sucked in air through gritted teeth, her muscles screaming.

"I never saw him."

Green. Again.

Darius's expression darkened. Oh, he didn't like that. Didn't like that she was telling the truth and still slipping through his fingers.

Aria didn't have the energy to smirk, but she would have.

Her ears rang, her breath came in shallow gasps, and her body refused to move. She was trapped in her own skin, drowning in a storm of pain that hadn't fully left yet, her mind glitching in and out of reality.

She barely registered Darius rising to his feet.

"Enough of this. I vote guilty. Let's end this farce."

One decision. Final. Unquestionable.

Except—

"I vote NOT guilty."

The chamber froze.

A silence so sharp it might as well have been a blade across the room.

It cut through the chamber, slicing through Darius's certainty, through Selene's calculations, through Aria's own fading consciousness.

She wasn't sure if she had heard it right.

Her gaze drifted, sluggish and unfocused, her vision blurred. But she still turned her head, searching—until her gaze landed on him.

Azneil.

She couldn't see him properly. Just a blurred outline of his form, the soft glow of the holographic panels reflecting off his uniform.

But she had heard him.

Her breath hitched. She felt like she was sinking, yet somehow, that single sentence grounded her more than the pain had.

Selene exhaled. Then, finally, she spoke.

"Then it falls to me. And I find 1107 guilty of assisting a paramour's escape. Of assaulting Kherosi soldiers. Of showing blatant disrespect to an Archon. These are undeniable violations of our laws."

She let the words hang for a moment. Then, she continued.

"However."

Darius's eyes narrowed slightly.

Selene ignored him.

"The reason she did it—the preservation of a Kherosi unborn—is not a crime. If anything, it is an act of loyalty to the Kherosi bloodline. That, I cannot ignore."

Aria's stomach twisted, even as her body remained numb.

She knew a 'but' was coming.

And it did.

"A punishment is necessary."

Her gaze dropped to Aria, unreadable.

"You crave the battlefield, 1107. That's your comfort zone. But a punishment is meant to break you. You will spend the next—"

She stopped.

Paused.

Then tilted her head ever so slightly before giving Aria the final blow.

"Actually… no set time. You'll serve until we decide otherwise, doing exactly what you tried to prevent. You will serve the nobility. You will be a paramour. And the next time you step out of line, it doubles."

Aria felt her stomach drop.

No end date. No escape.

A slow, crawling horror settled into her bones, much worse than the lashes had been. She could endure pain. She could endure torture.

But this?

This was hell.

This was psychological torment dressed up in pretty words.

Selene turned her gaze toward the gathered officials.

"If anyone in this chamber wishes to claim her as their paramour, they may step forward now."

Another silence.

Then—

A voice cut through it.

"I'll take her."

It shattered the chamber.

All eyes swung toward him.

Even Darius blinked, momentarily thrown before his expression hardened. This had been his moment to crush her, and Azneil had just ripped it away.

Selene, for once, looked genuinely surprised. "You, General Azneil?"

"Yes."

Darius's fists clenched, jaw ticking. Archon Orlin's brow furrowed in confusion. The Commander looked mildly disappointed that he wouldn't get to drag her through the depths of misery.

Aria…

Her fingers twitched. Her mind was fogged with exhaustion, her vision still wavering between reality and blackout.

But she heard him.

And for the first time in this entire trial—

She didn't know what the hell to think.

Selene gave Azneil a long, assessing look, then nodded once. "Very well."

And just like that, the trial was over.