CHAPTER 34 —The Weight of the Throne
Peter
The boardroom always smelled faintly of cedar and iron.
Cedar from the long polished table that sat at the center of the room, it was carved from the heartwood of an ancient tree. And iron from the weapons mounted along the walls, blades, axes and shields, relics of past wars Silvermoon had survived.
I paused outside the double doors for half a second to catch my breath before pushing them open.
The room fell silent instantly, every chair scraped backward in unison as elders, advisors, and commanders rose to their feet, the sound echoed sharply against the brick walls.
Respect or fear, sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference. At the far end of the table sat my mother, Elizabeth Stormbringer, draped in deep blue silk that shimmered
