Chapter 245
“You are insulting this council,” Tamsin says, color rising in her face.
“I am trusting it,” I counter. “Enough to believe it can survive limits.”
One of the quieter councilors, a woman I barely know, speaks up. Her voice is hesitant but sincere. “These safeguards are… comprehensive.”
“They are restrictive,” Hale corrects immediately.
“They are careful,” Morgan says.
Her voice cuts cleanly through the room, sharp and steady. Every head turns. Even Hale freezes.
“She is right,” Morgan continues, standing. “This is the first proposal I have seen in decades that acknowledges what power actually does when it is left alone.”
Hale stiffens. “Morgan, this is not your…”
“It is exactly my place,” Morgan interrupts. “I have watched this council crown solutions and then act surprised when they rot. Savannah is offering you something better than stability. She is offering you restraint.”
The room fractures audibly then. Arguments overlapping. Some councilors bristle at the implication. Others look thoughtful, uncomfortable in the way people get when they recognize truth they do not want to carry.
“You expect us to accept oversight from outside bodies,” Tamsin says, pushing back hard.
“Yes,” I reply. “Because you are not immune to self-interest. None of us are.”
“And who oversees them,” Hale demands, voice sharp now.
“The same structures,” I say. “The point is that no one sits above scrutiny. Ever.”
The vote comes faster than I expect. Faster than they intended. It feels rushed, like they want it over before the discomfort has time to deepen.
Six in favor.
Six opposed.
A perfect split.
The silence afterward is worse than the shouting. It hangs heavy and sour, filled with unsaid accusations and half-formed strategies. I look around the table and understand something all at once.
Acceptance would come with resentment. With quiet sabotage. With people waiting for me to fail so they can say they were right to distrust me. Even if they approved this role, they would never stop wanting it to be something else. Something easier to control. Something more familiar.
I stand.
“You do not need to continue,” I say.
Hale looks startled. “The vote is not concluded.”
“I am concluding it,” I reply.
Mirek frowns. “Savannah, this is not how…”
“I withdraw my candidacy,” I say clearly. “Entirely.”
The effect is immediate.
Shock ripples outward. Chairs
scrape. Someone swears under their breath. A A few councilors lean forward as if they can physically pull the words back into my mouth Morgan Closes her eyes briefly, then opens them again, something like relief flickering across her face.
“You cannot do that,” Tamsin says, incredulous.
“I just did,” I reply.
“You are refusing institutional legitimacy,” Hale says, anger bleeding through now, his voice sharp with it.
“Yes,” I say. “Because I will not be institutionalized.”
The word lands hard. Ugly. Honest. It feels like tearing something loose that has been growing under my skin for years.
“You would walk away,” Mirek says. “After all this.”
“I am walking toward something else,” I reply. “I just do not know what it is yet.”
I turn and leave before anyone can stop me. Before anyone can try to bargain or
threaten or reframe this as something other than what it is.
No escort follows. No one calls my name.
Outside, the air feels different. Wider. Like a door I did not realize was closed has been standing open this
Ine
whole time. My chest feels tight but my steps feel lighter
Ben is waiting near the edge of the grounds. He takes one look at my face and knows.
“You did not take it,” he says.
“No.”
He studies me carefully. “Do you regret it?”
I think of the terms. Of the split vote. Of the quiet hunger in that room, the way
power kept trying to wrap itself around me and call it partnership.
“No,” I say.
We walk away together, the council building shrinking behind us. For the Lean
first time in longer than ward
remember am not moving toward responsibility or away from it.
I am just moving.
Free.
Uncertain.
And finally choosing the shape of my own cage.