Lena
By evening of the next day, the royal hall had turned into a glittering gold trap.
Hundreds of floating wax candles cast long, sharp shadows across the vaulted stone ceiling. Below them sat the High Lords, sovereign allies, and foreign Kings of the realm. Their heavy velvet cloaks caught the flickering flame light, and their eyes sharp, arrogant, and calculating scanned the royal dais like hawks waiting for prey.
This was the announcement that should have come days ago, before the poisoned tea, before the Arlo’s threats, before any of it. Queen Lilith had first summoned this gathering the same week I arrived, only for it to collapse under the weight of conflicting schedules; half the border lords too occupied with their own quarrels to make the journey. Tonight, at last, every seat
