The bell rang again.
Not ceremonial now. Not measured.
"You shouldn't have come here," Maric said as he retreated toward the dais, laughter flickering at the corners of his mouth. "Were you counting on my father's strict rule to shield you?" His voice hardened. "On him playing host to your incredulity?"
Maric slowed, fingers brushing the arm of his chair as though it were a throne already earned. He did not turn at once.
Aya took a single step forward, a thought dangerously forming in head.
"Where is King Therin?" she asked, each word deliberate.
Maric finally faced her.
He smiled.
It was not a politician's smile. Not even a predator's.
It was the look of a man who had already crossed the line and was exhilarated by it.
"Oh, Lady Aya," he said softly. "Still asking after old men?"
The hall seemed to lean inward.
Aya did not blink. "You didn't answer me."
