Her white hair was a cloud of spun silver. Her face was a mask of ancient, serene power. She watched Arin with eyes the color of a stormy sea, and in their depths, Arin saw the cold, patient intelligence of a spider who had just felt a tremor in her web.
Arin met her gaze and did not look away.
Then she saw them. Standing near the foot of the dais. Auren and Elyra.
Elyra was a vision of righteous fury. She was veiled, but the fine black silk did little to hide the burning hatred in her green eyes. She stood tall and proud, a wronged queen demanding justice.
Auren stood beside her, but a world apart. He looked broken. The week had been as unkind to him as it had been to Arin. His face was pale, his shoulders slumped. He looked at Arin, and his golden eyes were a raw, open wound of guilt and despair.
"The prisoner is presented, Your Majesties," the captain of the guard announced, his voice booming in the sudden, expectant silence.
