The throne room of Veyne was very large and very quiet.
Tall windows ran down both sides. Pale light fell across a long red carpet that led to a raised throne at the far end. A man sat on the throne. He was old, with a thin white beard and a gold circlet on his head. His hands rested on the arms of the chair. His eyes were open, and they were looking at nothing.
Through Hunter's Insight, the thread at the back of his neck was the thickest grey thread Nathan had seen yet.
"His Majesty the Emperor," the Steward said, as they walked past him. He said it politely. "He sends his greetings to Albion."
The Emperor didn't move.
There was a small table near one of the windows, with three chairs and a pot of tea. The Steward pulled out a chair and gestured for Nathan to sit. Amelia took the chair across from him. The Steward poured three cups and sat down last, slowly, one hand on the table.
Nathan didn't touch his tea.
"It isn't poisoned," Amelia said.
"I didn't think it was."
