Aria
The problem with powerful men is that none of them know how to exist quietly.
The problem with kings is that they expect the world to adjust around them.
Right now, my world is trying very hard not to catch fire.
Literally.
Kaelith stands near the center of the council chamber like the room belongs to him now. Which — to be fair — it kind of feels like it does. The heat rolling off him hasn’t settled since he arrived. The torches lining the stone walls burn brighter every time his mood shifts, and at least three wolves near the doorway look one wrong sentence away from panicking.
Lucien lounges in one of the council chairs with effortless control that somehow feels just as dangerous.
Eryndor sits backward in another chair, arms draped lazily across the backrest like this is ent
