The Council Chamber felt less like a room of state and more like a courtroom where the sentence had already been written. The Empress sat beside the King, a lace handkerchief pressed to her eyes in a perfect performance of 'Grieving Majesty.'
"Sire," the Empress sobbed, her voice a masterclass in 'Vocal Brand Management.' "The girl stands before you covered in the very soot of the Temple she defiled. She murdered the High Priest to hide her tracks, and now she brings a 'diary' she likely forged in the dark of her own room. How much longer will we allow this... this pestilence to sit at your table?"
The King looked at me, his face unreadable. "Chancellor. You have sixty seconds to 'Justify your Presence' before the guards take you to the Tower."
I didn't panic. In my world, a sixty-second 'Elevator Pitch' was all you needed to change the world. I stepped toward the table, my hands steady as I opened the Priest's diary to the final page.
