[Silthara Palace — Imperial Audience Hall — Continuation]
The great bronze doors shuddered like beasts being forced open. Light from the high windows spilled across the polished sandstone floor, glowing over carvings of serpents, lotus petals, and ancient Zahryssarian kings.
The hall fell silent—because the Malik and the Malika entered.
Zeramet walked first, cold, tyrannical, like a storm wearing a crown. Every step carried the weight of a sovereign who never forgave disrespect.
Behind him, Levin moved with quiet grace, the veil brushing his cheeks, his presence soft yet radiant like a pale moon trailing a blazing sun.
They reached the dais.
The moment they stood upon the twin steps,High Ensi Rakhane Karzath bowed so low the ends of his robes grazed the floor.
"I greet the Malik and Malika of Zahryssar."
Zeramet's gaze snapped toward him—a glare sharp enough to strip flesh. Levin, sensing the tension spike, glanced at his husband.
