Javier strode into the Queen's Audience Chamber like winter itself, cloak snapping behind him, boots ringing against marble. The temperature seemed to drop with every step he took. Nobles bowed so low their foreheads nearly touched the floor. The air thickened with fear.
Yvonne remained seated in the high-backed chair, spine straight, hands gripping the carved arms. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she was sure the entire room could hear it.
He already knew.
She could see it in the way his dark gaze swept the chamber, cold, calculating, missing nothing. Someone had whispered in his ear the moment he entered. Probably Lord Dunbary, whose satisfied little smirk had not gone unnoticed.
Javier stopped before the long table. The silence was absolute.
"Explain," he said, voice low and flat, eyes locked on Yvonne.
