Caelion walked into the courtroom as though he owned it.
Because in truth, he did.
The heavy oak doors swung open before his servants could reach them, pulled by an unseen force that made the guards on either side stiffen. His boots struck the marble floor with deliberate slowness, each step echoing through the vast chamber like a drumbeat counting down to something none of them wanted to face.
The ministers were already seated. Twenty-three of them, arranged in descending order of power along the curved benches that flanked the king's throne. They had been summoned at dawn. They had been waiting for nearly an hour.
Not one of them dared to complain.
The room fell silent as Caelion entered. Not the respectful silence that greeted the king. This was different. This was the silence of prey caught in the open, frozen, hoping the predator would pass them by.
