"Are you ready?" Jonas asks, meeting me at the stairs leading to below the Estate, his assessment of my dress not the least bit subtle. I smile, linking my arm through his.

"I am, Preeminence Blackwood." He shakes his head, stifling a laugh. We take the first step down. My mark doesn't burn anymore. It doesn't even itch. After France, I doubt it ever will again. "Feel anything?" I ask, squeezing his forearm. I can feel the useless bandage under his clothes. He shakes his head.

"Not for a few months. I think they're sick of us Raggiots." I roll my eyes as we walk down the hallways into the Senate Chamber. Colton has already taken his throne, his eyes not so subtly glancing at his Zeta every now and then. After a kiss on the cheek from my husband and a squeeze of my hand, we separate, him taking his seat, and I mine, next to Vienna in one of the spectator boxes.

I stare at Z, the memory of my first Senate meeting flashing through my mind. Usually, these are the dullest part of my day. Endless droning about this, and that, and taxes. I have fully lost the concept of money. It's been a while since I last stood up and interrupted a proposal. And by a while, I mean maybe a month. I love most of these guys, but they have some idiotic ideals.

Nowadays, the interruptions don't end with the threat of death by a fistfight via the Beta. Nor am I as afraid today as I was then. This isn't a trial. I'm not risking my life. But, as that day all those years ago, this is a starting point. One that could prevent future tragedies happening to girls who were like me in that orphanage, or at least hold the monsters accountable.

Z laughs, probably looking at a picture the nanny sent of Cassia, before sliding his phone into the pocket of his blazer. The sound of a gavel breaks me out of my trace. My head snaps to Jonas, and Vienna squeezes my hand.