Aire stood exactly where she was.
She could feel every pair of eyes in the room fixed on her, wating for her to get back to her senses, and kneel.
Nobody spoke, or moved. Somehow, that was worse.
Aire's pulse hammered against her ribs.
She had made a mistake, and she knew it in her veins. This was a terrible mistake. The realization settled heavily inside her chest.
The figure seated upon the throne leaned back slightly. Coldness flickered across several faces around the table.
He visibly looked like he had just witnessed a rabbit bare its teeth at a pack of wolves.
Aire hated that.
She hated feeling small, and hated feeling helpless.
Most of all, she hated the certainty that she had walked into a world designed by people far crueler than anyone she had ever known.
Her throat tightened.
Instinctively, she reached inward, toward the silver power she had carried her entire life. She desperately reached toward the strange force that had always answered her call.
