Two weeks after Damien's confession about his complicated guilt, the council summoned Selene to a formal meeting.
She arrived in the council chamber confused, her footsteps echoing against marble floors that gleamed like dark water. Servants weren't usually called to official meetings. But the summons had been clear, delivered on thick parchment with the royal seal pressed into crimson wax. The Queen's personal attendant was required to appear before the council immediately.
The room was full. Every council member present, their faces grave and formal in the flickering candlelight. General Thorne, standing rigid with his hand resting on his sword hilt. Lord Varion, fingers steepled before him. Lord Caelen, his expression unreadable behind his graying beard. Even Alaric, standing in the back in his guard uniform, the fabric crisp and dark against the stone walls.
