The great hall of Athax had been prepared as though for a coronation rather than a treaty.
Banners of three kingdoms hung in measured symmetry from the vaulted rafters - silver and blue of House Svedana to the right, gold and green of House Ambrea to the left, and deep crimson edged in black for House Valmird at the center. The air carried the scent of wax, polished stone, and something quieter beneath it: anticipation sharpened into caution.
Victory against the West had ended the siege on their territories.
Though it had not ended politics.
Killan entered first, as protocol demanded. The court rose as one, a motion so synchronized it almost sounded like the turning of a single page. His garb was simple today, his cloak unadorned save for the sigil of his house at the shoulder. His station did not need embellishment when everyone in the room had already seen what it could influence.
Behind him, and only half a step to his right, walked Aya.
Exactly where she needed to be.
