The flickering light of the council chamber’s torches cast long, wavering shadows on the stone walls. The room, so often filled with tension, seemed quieter than usual. But it wasn’t the kind of quiet that brought peace. It was the kind that came before a storm.
I stood at one end of the chamber, arms crossed, my gaze fixed on Asher. He was seated at the head of the long oak table, the weight of the kingdom’s turmoil etched into every line of his face. His fingers drummed against the armrest, a habit I’d learned meant he was deep in thought. Or agitated. Likely both.
“You summoned me,” I said, my voice breaking the silence like a blade cutting through the fog.
He looked up, his dark eyes meeting mine. For a moment, he didn’t speak, and I wondered if he was wrestling with how to begin. A
