Chapter 17: Meeting the council

Lysara seemed determined to make this worse for Ezra. He wasn't surprised.

Her fingers tapped once against her chair's armrest—a careful rhythm that meant she was planning something.

From beside Lysara, Lady Commander Charlotte Thorne scoffed and waved her hand dismissively. Her voice was rough with contempt, worn down by years of dealing with council matters. 

"Did he really kill it? Or did it just trip over its own feet? Faded are still males, after all—violent and unpredictable. Just like him." Her knuckles went white as she gripped the table's edge.

Lady Thorne had spent most of her adult life on the front lines, fighting the monsters that kept trying to invade their world. She was a hero, celebrated and respected.

She'd battled the Vorthak spawn for fifteen years, watched them tear through her squads with mindless brutality. The scar along her forearm was a constant reminder of what happened when you underestimated a predator. Ezra was a human, obviously, but to her, someone like Ezra posed the same threat as those monsters—maybe even worse due to him being a male.

"I've seen what happens when things like that lose control. The Vorthak don't think, they just destroy. And every Faded male I've met has been one bad day away from doing the same."

Her cold green eyes locked onto Ezra with the calculating stare of someone who'd learned to spot threats before they struck. At forty-two, Lady Commander Thorne still had the deadly grace that had earned her rank. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a severe bun that showed the sharp lines of her face.

Despite her harsh expression, there was something undeniably striking about her—a dangerous beauty sharpened by hardship and command, both intimidating and captivating.

Her gaze fell on Ezra like a verdict, already condemning him as another disaster waiting to happen.

'This woman—is she seriously comparing me to those monsters?' Ezra felt a spark of anger. 'How can she think I'm the same?'

Arya stepped forward, her jaw set in that stubborn line that meant she was about to risk her career again.

"With all due respect, Lady Commander, we were there. He acted in defense. He showed restraint." Her voice carried the weight of someone who'd put her reputation on the line before for what was right. And she had. "I stand by my report."

Thorne's lip curled. "Of course you do, Agent. Your soft heart will get you killed one day."

Ezra bit back the sharp retort on his tongue. He wanted to snap back, ask Thorne if every male with backbone scared her, but that wouldn't help Arya, who was already taking heat for defending him.

Instead, he looked directly at Lysara, whose drumming fingers had gone still.

"So I'm guilty until proven innocent? I expected better from the council."

His voice wasn't loud or angry—he sounded disappointed more than worried, and that's why it hit the room like a slap.

Several councilwomen shifted. Lady Valerius leaned back, her sharp eyes trying to figure out whether this defiance was stupidity or strategy. One of the younger councilwomen, a brunette, actually looked at him with interest. 

But one woman, calm and elegant with eyes like cut glass, tilted her head and smiled faintly. "Sharp tongue," she murmured, almost purring. "That can be dangerous in a man."

This was her first time speaking, having been content to simply observe and catalog every expression, every tell.

This was Daphne Virellith, Chief Scientist of the Citadel and council member. She was coldly beautiful, but not in the usual way. She looked almost too perfect—engineered rather than born. Tall and statuesque, with flawless pale skin that seemed sculpted rather than natural.

Ezra didn't seem bothered under her gaze. If anything, he straightened slightly. Despite his earlier nerves, he was already feeling more at ease. He even flashed a cool smile, "Depends on what you're afraid of," he said evenly, "You know, the real danger isn't in the sharp tongue—it's in assuming you already know what someone's going to say with it."He added.

His words caused another shift in the Council. Even Lady Valerius tilted her head, like she wasn't sure whether to be impressed or annoyed by his boldness. The brunette was now openly staring at him, clearly unused to anyone talking back in these chambers.

Lysara raised a hand, silencing the murmurs. Her fingers found that rhythmic pattern again—tap, tap, pause. Control restored. "Agents Lyra and Mireille have confirmed that he acted in self-defense, and by law, we cannot charge him for that." She looked at Ezra, her tone precisely controlled. "But this doesn't mean you're free, Mr. Noctis. You are a question mark in a world that values certainty."

Ezra allowed himself a brief, genuine grin. "Thank you, Lysara."

Lady Thorne's jaw clenched. She clearly didn't like being overruled. Her fingers flexed like she wanted to reach for a weapon that wasn't there.

"But we still need to understand what you are," Daphne said, rising with fluid elegance. She moved from her seat among Lysara and Lady Valerius, her approach deliberate and predatory. "As chief scientist, I'll be handling your case. We'll do physical scans, psychological profiles, DNA analysis. Standard evaluations. We need to determine whether you're a threat, Zaeryn."

Ezra sighed quietly. Why did she have to approach him and look at him like that? Like he was a fascinating specimen she couldn't wait to examine. But it gave him a chance to get a proper look at her too.

She was absolutely stunning. Tall and elegant, she moved like someone who'd never stumbled in her life. Her eyes were an icy violet that seemed to glow faintly under the Citadel's lighting, holding a cutting edge that made it seem like she could dissect a person without touching them.

Her lab coat, sleeveless and split down both sides, was less a coat and more a fashion statement—fitted at the waist, open at the legs, and clearly tailored to show her figure without ever seeming unprofessional. Beneath it, a form-fitting skirt that barely reached her knees clung to every curve.

Her long blue hair was pulled back in a high twist that showed the elegant line of her neck.

She stood close enough for him to catch her scent—clean, expensive, and just dangerous enough to make a man forget his own name.

"I hope you don't object," she said smoothly, testing him with a smile that said she already knew the answer.

Behind her, Lysara's drumming had stopped entirely. She was watching this interaction with the focus of a chess master seeing several moves ahead.

'Object?' Ezra almost laughed, but more from annoyance than anything. As if he had any say in the matter. If these women wanted to strap him to a table and poke around his brain, all his 'objections' would earn him was tighter restraints.

However, Ezra wasn't the type who liked being controlled or leashed. Some guys might be into that—and hey, no judgment—but he wasn't. Ezra didn't like collars, unless he was the one holding the leash.

Knowing what game was being played, he leaned into the moment, locked eyes with her, and flashed the kind of grin that had gotten him into—and out of—trouble before. "How can I say no when saying yes means getting your full attention? Some people would pay a fortune for a privilege like that."

She didn't expect him to say that so charmingly. For a brief second, Daphne's smile wavered, a flicker of surprise flashing in those sharp violet eyes before she recovered, smoothing it over with icy professionalism.

Lady Thorne made a disgusted noise. "Typical male. Turn everything into—"

"That confidence," Daphne cut her off smoothly, circling slightly, her heels clicking in a slow, deliberate rhythm, "is either impressive… or dangerous."

Lady Valerius leaned forward now, openly interested. The nervous brunette had gone completely still, like she was witnessing something forbidden.

Ezra watched Daphne move, noting how Lysara's fingers had resumed their tapping, faster now. "Aren't those usually the same thing?" he replied.

There was another pause. Barely half a second. But he saw it. She wasn't used to men like him. Definitely not ones who fought back with charm instead of aggression.

"Can I at least call someone before all of this?" Ezra asked, his voice carrying just enough vulnerability to remind them all that beneath the confidence, he was still at their mercy.

Lady Commander Thorne exchanged a brief look with Lysara. There was silent agreement before Lysara nodded. "Very well. A single, monitored call. Mireille will escort you."

Mireille, who had been standing rigidly beside Arya, stepped forward. Her expression remained stone-faced. Ezra felt like Mireille grew colder toward him every time he looked at her.

Daphne spoke to Ezra before he could leave. "If you're thinking of running," she said, "you're wasting your time. This Citadel is escape-proof due to high surveillance."

Ezra met her intense gaze, a flash of the mischief that always lurked beneath surfacing. A slow, easy smile spread across his face, not entirely genuine, but perfectly disarming. "Running? From all this beauty? You think so little of me, and it's breaking my heart." His eyes lingered on her for just a beat longer than necessary, acknowledging her imposing presence. "Besides," he added, his voice dropping conspiratorially, "who'd want to leave before getting to know the fascinating people here?"

Across the table, Lysara raised an eyebrow, a tiny, almost amused smirk touching the corner of her lips. Even Lady Commander Thorne leaned back a fraction, a spark of something unreadable in her usually grim eyes. The younger council member with the calculating gaze let out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle, her smile growing wider. Ezra felt the collective gaze of the Council shift—no longer just clinical assessment, but a flicker of genuine human curiosity.

"Agent Mireille," Lysara's voice cut through the momentary lapse in composure, sharp but with an undertone of something new. "Proceed."

"This way, Zaeryn."

Ezra gave the Council a casual nod, a silent nod and followed Mireille out of the chamber.

They moved through the silent corridors once more, the polished floors reflecting their hurried steps. Ezra found a quiet place and made the phone call to Ysmeine's number.

The phone vibrated. A single, hopeful ring. Then another. And then, a voice.

"Ezra? Is that you? What's going on? Where are you?" Ysmeine's frantic voice burst through the speaker, a lifeline.

Ezra quickly filled her in on his situation. After confirming that she was coming to the citadel he hung up the call.