Lyria and Wallace reconvened in the King’s study. It was a beautiful room, painted in a pretty, grass green shade. Maps and portraits hung on the walls. The floors were made of light, intentionally worn looking wood, covered in a large rug the color of sunset. Wallace had decorated it himself, down to the shade of the walls. From time to time he would redecorate, and he never let the staff help. He considered the room a space that was all his own.
“You don’t think…?” Lyria couldn’t even say it, the door barely closed behind her before she was speaking, Sirre Firesell still shuffling behind her.
“We can’t rule anyone out,” Wallace said. He looked troubled. His jaw was clenched and his hands were scurrying mindlessly over the desk he stood behind, eager for something to do to keep his min
