Ethan's POV
The chamber swallowed the last of the corridor's light and my shoes sounded too loud on the stone. My father sat at the head of the long table like a verdict waiting to be read. Randolph lounged beside him with all the insolence of a man who thinks winning is a birthright. Lila—perfect, controlled, predatory—watched me with that smile that had haunted the edges of my sleep. The priestess sat off to the side like a quiet starved thing, every motion measured.
The room was a trap dressed as a meeting.
My father did not bother with courtesies. "You humiliated me at the banquet," he said flatly, each word a small, practiced lash. "Your conduct was irrational. You made me look weak in front of our allies."
I said nothing. Answers would only hand them a weapon.
Randolph's lips twitched. Lila's eyelids were almost mesmerizingly still. The priestess's hands were folded, patient as a blade.
