Three days. The words hung in the air of the great hall, a tangible deadline that seemed to change the pressure in the room. The weekly court assembly was always formal, but today it thrummed with a new, anticipatory energy.
Nova stood at her assigned post at the very back, amidst the other upper servants. The air here smelled of beeswax, wool, and the faint, ever-present scent of the kitchens. It was a world away from the perfumed nobles at the front, yet they were all connected by the voice of the king.
