Morvel dropped to his knees.
He didn't hesitate or look toward the palace. His knees struck the step beneath him, and he bowed until his forehead nearly touched the bone.
"Forgive me, Sovereign," he said hoarsely. "This servant overstepped."
No answer came.
The voice didn't speak again. It didn't need to.
Morvel remained where he was, perfectly still, his grey robes spread across the step around him. The cold pressure he had released only moments ago was gone, as though it had never existed.
Simon looked at the kneeling guide, then up at the palace.
A single word.
That was all it had taken.
At the top of the stairway, the palace gates began to open.
They were enormous, made of the same light-swallowing black as the walls, with the black dragon biting its own tail engraved across both doors. The crimson at its center brightened as the doors swung inward without a sound.
A woman stepped out.
