The council hall was nearly empty now, save for those who mattered. Fina stood by Allen's side again, resting her crop over her shoulder like a war trophy. Rinni sat cross-legged at the base of the throne, stretching her arms with a lazy yawn, her eyes still locked on the trembling, slumped figure on the polished floor.
Soreya hadn't moved since Allen's last words. Her breath came shallow and unsteady, eyes wide but unfocused. Her thighs remained parted, sticky with the dried remnants of shame and attention, and the skin of her knees had turned slightly red from hours of service. A long string of saliva still dangled from her mouth, curved against her chin. She wasn't even trying to look dignified anymore.
Allen descended the steps of the throne once more. Each bootstep echoed—measured, slow, and deliberate. He didn't need to speak. The room itself seemed to hold its breath.
