The council chamber was already in chaos when Seren walked in.
"No," Aeron said for the fourth time. His voice was flat, final, the voice he used when no argument would move him. "Absolutely not."
Lord Pemberton, one of the newly appointed lords loyal to the princes nodded vigorously. "The queen cannot travel north. It's suicide. Thorne's faction would capture her within a week."
"Or kill her outright," added another council member. "She's the symbol of everything they hate."
Seren waited. She had learned patience in the servant quarters, learned to let people talk themselves out while she stood silent. When the objections finally faded, she spoke.
"I didn't ask for permission."
The room went quiet.
Aeron's jaw tightened. "Seren..."
