The rest of the family filled the gallery in a warm, murmuring row. A blonde head among them kept popping up over the rail to wave at Felicity and Iris until Lucille gently pulled her back down by the tail.
Felicity, who was on duty and being very serious, waved back with two fingers, low, where her father couldn't see.
He saw. He said nothing.
The royal children had the eastern gallery. Prince Elias, first of his name, three hundred years of unhurried dignity, stood at the rail with his hands folded.
Prince Caelum leaned beside him. Between the brothers, in the white and gold vestments of the Goddess's church, stood the Arch Priestess Elisabeth, called Dawn Breaker, and her calm was the professional kind that took effort.
"Sister," Caelum murmured. "What does our father's face say to you?"
Elisabeth studied the carved stillness on the throne.
"It says someone in this hall is already dead," she said.
