The Grand Hall was silent. Cassian's declaration still hung in the air like a physical weight. The Northern generals were pacing, their heavy boots thudding against the marble. Their faces were flushed with a mix of insult and fury. Across from them, the Southern nobles huddled in tight circles, their whispers sounding like the dry rustle of dead leaves.
In the center of it all, the Duke of Valen hammered his fist against the council table. "Order!" he bellowed. "This is a hall of law, not a barracks! Your Highness, you cannot simply rewrite the protocols of the Asset program on a whim!"
Cassian did not move. He stood like a statue carved from obsidian. His hand remained firmly on the small of Elias's waist, a touch that felt like a brand. Elias felt the heat of it through his tunic.
Then, the massive oak doors at the far end of the hall groaned open.
