Silence.
It spread through the Great Hall like a plague.
No one breathed.
No one moved.
The crown that had slipped from Chancellor Sterling’s hands lay in the center of the marble floor, spinning slowly before finally settling with a dull metallic ring.
Julian stared.
His face had become as pale as the snow beyond the stained-glass windows.
“No…”
His voice cracked.
“No… you’re dead.”
Alistair descended the first step of the dais with measured grace.
Each footstep echoed through the hall.
“I was,” he replied calmly.
“For a very long time.”
The gathered nobles instinctively stepped aside, creating a path before him.
No command had been given.
No sword had been drawn.
Yet no one dared stand in his way.
⸻
Dowager Duchess Vane was the first to recover.
“This is a trick!”
He
