The underground meeting chamber felt larger than it used to.
Not because anything about the room had changed, but because two of the chairs around the long stone table were empty.
Lady Veyra's seat remained untouched.
So did Lord Merrowyn's.
No one had moved them. No servant had cleared the places. No one had suggested replacing the chairs or pretending that the five-person alliance still existed in anything close to its former state. The empty seats did that work on their own. Every time one of the three remaining nobles looked across the table, their eyes inevitably passed over those spaces before moving away again.
Lord Pellian sat closest to the head of the table, heavier than before, his expensive clothing wrinkled around the waist and stained near one sleeve where some injury from the Vault had not fully healed. Lord Hadrien sat opposite him with one arm resting against the chair, his face noticeably thinner after several days of recovery.
