The entire palace felt too quiet, not the peaceful kind of quiet either, the kind that waited for blood.
Elara walked between two royal guards as the early morning wind swept through the palace corridors, her blue robes dragging softly against the marble floors. The chains around her wrists clinked lightly with every step, though they were loose enough not to hurt.
A performance.
Everything in the outer wall was always a performance.
Court maids stood at the corners whispering amongst themselves while some nobles watched openly with satisfaction painted all over their faces.
Especially Lord Varos.
The old fool looked one breath away from celebration.
"Finally," he muttered as he watched Elara being escorted toward the Temple of the First. "The kingdom can be rid of this plague."
Elara merely blinked at him lazily.
"You know," she sighed dramatically. "For a man so old, you sure spend a lot of time worrying about young women. It's starting to feel suspicious."
