Logan
An hour later, the meeting was finally over.
I sat back and watched the Elders leave the council room one by one, their heavy robes brushing the floor, their faces unreadable as always. The air felt lighter the moment the last of them disappeared through the doors.
Spike, who had been waiting outside, walked in.
"Did the meeting go well?" he asked.
I lifted a hand and waved it weakly. "You have no idea," I muttered. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, a dull headache pounding behind my skull.
"Ahem. Ahem."
The sound was smooth. Mocking.
"I'd like a word with my brother, if you don't mind."
Nathan.
I lifted my head.
He stood in front of my throne, not looking at me—but staring straight at Spike, like Spike was dirt on his boots.
Spike scoffed quietly and turned his gaze to me. His eyes searched mine. He didn't need to speak. The question was clear.
Should I stay, or should I go?
"It's fine," I said with a small nod. "You can go."
