Seraphine's POV
The antechamber of the royal apartments lay quiet in the afternoon light. Wood-paneled walls, a low couch, two armchairs, a small dark table with wax tablets and a penknife—nothing more. A standing clock near the door ticked slowly, and now and then a coal in the brazier shifted with a soft crackle.
Darius sat in one of the armchairs across from me. He didn’t lean back or forward; he sat like someone ready to stand at any moment, but not in a rush. His right hand—Cassian, as I now learned—stood behind my left shoulder near the door. He didn’t speak or move unnecessarily, but it was obvious he wasn’t decoration. He watched everything: the room, the hallway sounds, Darius’s fingers tapping faintly, and me.
Zoey waited quietly against the wall. Margot wasn’t inside; she had
