The silence in the hall pressed down like a weight. Not even the crystals dared hum. The witches stood frozen, their runes flickering faintly, eyes wide with disbelief that their magic—flawless and ancient—had been broken so effortlessly.
The Queen, however, did not flinch. Slowly, deliberately, she tilted her head to look at Kael, her lips curving in a smile that did not reach her eyes.
"You break the bindings of my coven," she said, her voice low and velvety, though each syllable coiled with venom. "You stand in my hall, uninvited, and bare your fangs at me."
Kael did not move from her side. Shadows clung to him like a second skin, his presence suffocating. "And you would dare try to drag me like a chained dog before your throne." His dark gaze burned as it swept over her court. "I have tolerated your little show long enough."
The witches shifted uneasily. One hissed, "You dare—" but the Queen silenced her with the flick of a hand.
