Chapter 39 INVALID
AVRIELLE'S POV
Ivana didn't wait for a formal invitation.
She grabbed the goldsmith by the sleeve, her grip tight enough to leave bruises, and hauled him toward the center of the arena. He stumbled, his soot-stained tunic flapping against his legs, and when they reached the podium, he looked like a trapped bird about to be devoured by a hawk.
Xavier’s gaze shifted from the goldsmith to me. It was heavy, weighted with an expectation that made my knees tremble.
I drew a shaky breath, forcing myself to stand tall.
"This is the witness," I announced, my voice echoing off the surrounding stone walls. "He is the one Adrian wrote to regarding the surprise. He will prove that Adrian was never a traitor, that his movements were entirely innocent."
Xavier didn’t look at me again. His focus snapped onto the goldsmith with the intensity of a predator tracking a heartbeat. He didn't blink. He simply leaned forward, his bloodied hand resting on his knee, and let the silence stretch until the goldsmith was visibly sweating.
"Speak," Xavier commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried to every corner of the arena. "Speak every truth. And if so much as a hint of a lie drips through your teeth, I wouldn't mind feeding your flesh to your own kind. Do you understand?"
The goldsmith swallowed hard. His throat bobbed, and he looked like he wanted to vanish into the floor. He stuttered at first, his hands shaking as he gripped the edge of the podium.
"I... I am a craftsman," he began, his voice thin. "I work in secret. That is the way of the Rogue District. Three months ago, I received a courier. It was a request—written in a code, yes, but only because the buyer was terrified of his mate finding out before the time was right."
He took a ragged breath, finding his footing.
"He wanted a lunar stone necklace. Not just any stone, but a rare violet-grade. It is forbidden to trade with the North, but he paid in full, and he paid for silence. He provided sketches—very detailed, very romantic. He wanted it ready by the anniversary of his bonding."
The goldsmith went on, detailing the timeline with an agonizing level of precision. He spoke of the specific couriers Adrian had hired, the back-and-forth negotiations regarding the setting, and the sheer desperation Adrian had displayed in his letters to ensure the gift arrived without a single scratch.
He described the way Adrian had begged him to bypass the traditional pack routes to keep the surprise a secret from Ivana, how he had specifically asked for a hidden inscription on the inside of the band—something that would only be visible when the sun hit the stone just right.
He recounted the meetings they had held in the neutral borderlands, the way Adrian would look over his shoulder, terrified that an Alpha’s enforcer would catch him in an "act of treason."
To the goldsmith, it was just a nervous client. To those of us standing in the arena, it sounded like the frantic planning of a man who was desperately trying to keep a secret, not a man plotting a rebellion.
I listened, my heart swelling with triumph. I was right. I hadn't misjudged him. Adrian was just a fool for love, an idiot who didn't understand that his obsession with secrecy was the very thing that had made him look like a criminal.
The goldsmith finished, his voice finally gaining some color. "I have no interest in the Northwood pack. I have no interest in your wars. I just make jewelry. I have no reason to lie for him. He is a paying client. That is all."
Xavier remained motionless. He waited a beat, his expression unreadable, before he looked at the goldsmith.
"Do you have any proof to back this up?" Xavier asked calmly. "Any receipts? Any logs? Any physical correspondence that can be verified by a neutral party?"
The color of victory that had been flooding my veins suddenly curdled into ice.
Proof.
We had the witness. We had the goldsmith’s word. But we didn't have the necklace. We didn't have the letters.
In my rush to save him, in my blind, frantic sprint to bring the man here, I hadn't thought to bring the tangible evidence. I had assumed that a witness—a man who had no reason to help us—would be enough.
I looked at the goldsmith. His face had gone pale, his eyes darting toward the Ivana, then to me.
"I..." the goldsmith stammered, his confidence collapsing. "I... the letters were destroyed, as per his request. He insisted on it for security... for his own secrecy."
Xavier’s expression didn't change, but the air around him began to vibrate with a low, dangerous hum.
"Don't make me repeat myself," Xavier growled, his voice dipping into that low register that promised violence. "Is there a necklace? Is there a physical manifestation of this 'surprise'?"
"No," the goldsmith whispered, his voice trembling. "He... he had yet to collect it. It is still in my workshop."
A low, guttural sound escaped Xavier—a growl that was less human than it was animal. He stood up, his height seeming to swallow the arena.
"So, you think I am supposed to take your explanation as law?" Xavier said, his voice dripping with venom.
He didn't wait for an answer. His gaze shifted from the goldsmith and landed on me. It was a cold, piercing stare that stripped me of every bit of confidence I had fought for over the last twenty-four hours.
"This witness could be framed for all I care," Xavier said, his eyes hard as diamonds. "He is a rogue. He is a criminal by your own admission. And you brought him here with nothing but words? You expect me to let a man who broke the highest law in my land walk free based on a story?"
I surged forward, desperate to close the gap. "Please, you have to believe me! He’s telling the truth! You can see it in his eyes, you can see how terrified he is..."
"Silence," Xavier cut me off, his voice slicing through the air like the very blade he had shattered earlier.
He took a step toward the podium, his presence so overwhelming that the goldsmith stumbled back, nearly tripping off the platform.
"This witness," Xavier said, looking at the cowering man, "and this statement of proof, is considered... invalid."
My heart shattered. "No," I breathed, my world tilting. "Xavier, no!"
But he wasn't looking at me anymore. He turned to the executioner, who was now holding a fresh, glinting blade.
"Finish it," Xavier ordered.