The king's gaze swept to the young woman before him without forming a single expression.
Kaede met his eyes with the same unreadable poise.
They stood like statues carved of different stones—his a monument to ancient endurance, hers to unyielding purpose.
Blood pooled in a quick spread beneath her feet, each ripple of the crimson mirror touching the hem of her white-and-silver yukata until it bloomed into a deep, violent red. Droplets traced down her cheek and chin, marking her face in streaks that made her look less like a noblewoman and more like a wild goddess of war.
The chamber held its breath.
Seconds crawled by. The silence between them grew heavier until it became a living thing, a phenomenon that wrapped around every noble's throat and held it shut.
Then, King Alexios rose.
It was not the hurried jerk of a man startled, but the measured, deliberate ascent of someone who had stood before armies and made the skies tremble with his presence.
