The day set aside for the Grand Council dawned murky, with a chill in the air that warned of approaching storms, the deep minor chords reverberating in a distant part of Irenya’s hearing as she walked to the library. Gedric greeted her at the door. He directed her to a place at the long table, on his right, and somewhat removed from Elaaron’s chair. Symeon and Hamal were already seated, pouring water for themselves from one of the elegant carafes. They nodded a polite and formal greeting before filling her crystal goblet. The princes arrived. Gedric guided each man to what Irenya guessed was a predetermined seating plan. Conversations gathered pace around the table, comments on the weather and the autumn colours, and the pleasures of Ilkyrie’s fine bathhouse.
Footsteps approached. Irenya
