Elara was exactly where Aria expected to find her — buried in the lower archives, three ancient books open around her in a loose semicircle, a cold cup of tea forgotten at her elbow, her silver-streaked hair coming loose from its usual severe knot. The room smelled of old parchment and candle wax, shelves rising into shadow far above the reach of the lamps, and Aria felt the weight of centuries pressing down from every direction the moment she stepped through the archway.
"You came," Elara said, not looking up from the page in front of her. "I wondered if you would, after the hearing."
"Corvin said to ask you what happens to a King who no longer fears himself." Aria crossed the room and stood across the table from her, Fenris a half-step behind, his jaw set in the particular stillness sh
