Blinding white light washed over Diplomat Row. Not a single warrior flinched. They stood calm in the blaze like it was sunshine, while hundreds of Dark Fae shrieked and disintegrated into floating ash.
The light cut off.
The silence that followed was so complete it felt like the universe itself had hit mute.
"How interesting," Guinevere said, staring at her hands.
Maddox looked down at her. "Nope. We're done. No more interesting shit tonight."
A single soldier near the orgy tent tested the waters. "Take the gold. Take the g—" He stopped, glanced around, and smoothly transitioned into a fake coughing fit.
Marek and Eron's voices rang out together like they'd practiced it. "Your Majesty, the girl."
"Drakencrest, my daughter—" Renwick started.
"I need to speak to my granddaughter," Lord Solandris finished at the same time.
