Chapter 492: Gentle Smile
The courtroom was already buzzing when Cecilia entered.
She walked down the center aisle with Arkai at her side, his hand resting gently on the small of her back, his wolf ears swiveling vigilantly.
The gallery was fuller than it had been in previous sessions. Word had spread that something significant might happen today, and the benches were packed with journalists, legal observers, and the simply curious.
Perhaps they were right. Because clearly, and surprisingly, the Lesser Goddess came today.
Cecilia took her seat directly behind the Association’s legal team, her pregnant belly making the motion careful and deliberate. Arkai settled beside her, his shoulder brushing hers, his pitch black eyes already scanning the room for threats.
She wore a simple navy dress, modest, her hair pulled back in a low twist. The cloud necklace rested against her collarbone.
The door to the defendant’s chamber opened.
Arzhen Vasiliev entered with his legal team flanking him, but he stopped walking the moment he crossed the threshold. His tiger ears, which had been relaxed, lifted. His dark eyes, which had been fixed on some middle distance, sharpened into sudden focus. He smelled her before he had seen her.
The noise of the courtroom, the whispered conversations, the shuffling papers, the distant murmur of the hallway beyond, faded into a low, formless buzz. Like static. Like the hum of insects on a summer night.
Arzhen didn’t hear any of it. His world had narrowed to a single point, the woman in the navy dress, sitting behind the opposing counsel’s table, her profile turned slightly away from him.
His eyes gentled. No anger in them, no cold calculation, no predatory gleam. There was only softness. Longing. He saw something precious he had thought lost forever, and that was it. As if he didn’t remember it was lost for a reason.
His lips parted slightly, as though he might speak her name. His tail, usually so controlled, gave a single, involuntary twitch.
Cecilia didn’t look at him.
She kept her eyes forward, fixed on the judge’s empty bench, her hands folded over her belly. Her expression was calm, indifferent, as though Arzhen Vasiliev were a stranger.
Beside her, Arkai’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He simply placed his hand over hers, and together they waited for the proceedings to begin.
The bailiff called the court to order, and Judge Venn ascended the bench, the hem of her black robes sweeping against the polished dais.
Today’s proceeding was a continuation of the preliminary injunction hearing, the Association’s motion to compel Arzhen Vasiliev to resume production of the Barrier technology or, failing that, to license the patent to a court-appointed manufacturer pending the full trial.
The stakes were immediate, every week without the Barrier meant more hunters left exposed, more communities left vulnerable to corruption outbreaks.
The Association’s lead counsel presented first, a sharp-eyed werefox who walked the judge through updated operational impact reports. Casualty figures had risen twelve percent in the past month alone. Three separate rift closure operations had been delayed due to inadequate protective equipment.
Arzhen’s team responded with procedural objections and expert testimony challenging the Association’s data. Their argument, by now familiar, was that the Association had failed to prove the Barrier was irreplaceable, that alternative technologies existed, that the public safety argument was being weaponized to justify an unconstitutional taking of private property.
The lead defense attorney spoke eloquently, but his words felt hollow against the weight of the casualty figures still hanging in the air.
Judge Venn asked pointed questions of both sides, her quill pen scratching notes onto a legal pad. She did not rule from the bench. She rarely did. But her expression, as she reviewed the latest evidence, was grim.
At half past three, she struck her gavel and adjourned. The courtroom dissolved into motion. Lawyers started to pack their briefcases, journalists checked recordings, spectators rising from the benches.
Cecilia stood slowly, Arkai’s hand steady at her elbow. She walked up the aisle without looking back. The next court date would come. And the next. And the next. Just that... today was over.
But apparently, not quite yet.
"Cecilia—"
She heard his voice.
The crowd was still thick in the hallway outside the courtroom. Lawyers conferring in clusters, journalists, the general shuffle of bodies moving toward exits and elevators and the bright afternoon light.
Arkai, walking beside her with his hand still steady at her elbow, kept his eyes forward. He was sure Cecilia wouldn’t acknowledge it. He was sure she would keep walking, keep her head high, keep her dignity intact the way she always did.
But she slowed down. And his heart secretly leaped up his throat.
His eyes faltered when he saw her turning toward the voice.
Arzhen caught up, but he didn’t need to sprint. The crowd slowed everyone, a bottleneck at the courthouse doors, a crush of bodies in the marble hallway, and it gave him time. Time to reach her. Time to speak.
"Cecilia."
She stopped and looked at him. He looked completely different from the man who had screamed at her in the cafe, who had rampaged through the streets. He... even looked different from the cold and cruel him for seven years of their marriage in real world.
His suit was immaculate and his posture relaxed. His eyes, dark, held a warmth she had never seen directed at her. Those were the eyes he usually used to look at Ruby. Soft. Adoring.
"You’re wearing that necklace," Arzhen said, his gaze dropping to the silver cloud resting against her collarbone. As if he wanted her to remember the cafe and the confrontation, the moment he had begged her to save him and she had walked away.
"Just say what you want to say." She said, "I have an appointment."
"Let’s go for dinner." Arzhen’s smile didn’t waver. "It’s a bit long, things I want to talk about with you."
"I have an appointment." Cecilia repeated the words with the same flat intonation, and this time she grasped Arkai’s arm.
Arzhen raised his eyebrows. His gaze shifted, slowly, to the man beside her.
It was as though he was seeing Arkai for the first time, as though the wolf beastman had been invisible until this moment. Black hair, not white. Broad shoulders and steady pitch black eyes and a jaw set with silent yet unmistakable warning.
Different from the man Arzhen had glimpsed on the kei truck bed that morning. But no less impressive.
"Cecilia..." Her name came out softer now, almost pleading.
"If there’s nothing else, I’m leaving." She turned away, her hand still on Arkai’s arm. "I won’t attend further court dates."
She meant it. He could hear it in her voice.
She sounded done.
Arkai turned with her, his body already angling to shield her from the crowd and the cameras, from the man who still stood frozen behind them.
"Your mother."
Cecilia stopped.
Her mother?
"You asked me to look into your mother’s mystery, right?" Arzhen gently asked. He knew what he was doing. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Cecilia’s eyes were wide. Arkai felt her grip tighten on his arm, and he saw the flicker.
"I have everything you could possibly wish to know." Arzhen lifted a manila file his assistant had just placed in his hand. His eyes were fixed on the back of her head. "Cecilia, come with me."
Cecilia turned back, and her eyes caught the file. She looked back at him and he was smiling. So gentle. A smile she had once, long ago, dreamed of receiving herself.
He raised his hand toward her, palm up, an invitation. "Come with me."