The hall was suffocatingly quiet, Lumina couldn't help but swallow seeing that the reason why a father and son was about to argue was because of her.
The throne loomed above them, carved from blackened stone and ancient bone, a symbol of power soaked in centuries of blood.
King Aden sat upon it, his body frail, shoulders hunched beneath layers of ceremonial robes.
His breathing was uneven, shallow. Yet his eyes were still brutal for a dying man.
"Drop me.." Lumina whispered to her husband, Ashwn hesitated but she touched his chest convincing him.
"Fine," he grumbled and let go of her as he dropped her on the ground.
Then Lumina took a slow step forward.
"Your Highness," she called out calmly, though her fingers trembled within Ashen's grasp. "If I may speak." The sound of her voice alone drew King Aden's full attention.
The hall seemed to tilt.
King Aden studied her the way a predator studies prey, with interest.
