The throne room of Solace was wrapped in the heavy silence that lingers after blood has been spilled, tense and expectant as it waited for the new King to speak.
Kale Voss lounged on the towering throne that had borne the weight of generations of Solace rulers, one leg draped over the armrest, fingers tapping a slow, restless beat against the carved stone.
It had only been a day since he'd told Rhea to summon Aster, so they were meant to meet today. Yet, as he sat in the throne room, the man was nowhere in sight.
Sunlight poured through the tall stained-glass windows, scattering into shards of red and gold across the marble floor, but none of it eased the icy edge in his gaze.
Rhea stood exactly three steps below the dais, her posture flawless, crimson-and-black armor gleaming without a speck of dust.
She dipped her head slightly, speaking in a calm, measured tone, the kind used when delivering news that could easily cost someone their tongue.
