The corridor outside the Council chamber smelled faintly of old stone and frost. Alina’s palms brushed the worn tapestries as they walked, each embroidered crest a silent witness. The marks beneath her skin pulsed in uneven rhythms—one cool and deliberate, one hot and insistent—as if Kael and Riven’s claims had followed her out of the circle and refused to let go. She didn’t let either of them see her hesitation. Not today.
They moved together, but not as allies. Kael’s stride was measured, boots landing with a soldier’s certainty. Riven, a step behind, walked as though the hall belonged to him, shoulders loose, a glimmer of mischief already in his eyes. Their proximity pressed against her nerves like static, like a storm still waiting to break.
The Council doors closed behind them with
