The hallway leading to Alaric's study was quiet except for the scuff of their boots on the floor. The torches along the stone walls burned steadily. Aveloria walked between Galen and Theron, her posture straight and her gaze fixed on the heavy oak door at the far end. No guards stood outside it. The summons had come suddenly, and that alone meant something serious.
Theron opened the door, stepping aside to let her enter first. They saw Trovald's figure when they stepped inside the study. He was beside Alaric's desk, holding a stack of scrolls against his chest. Alaric sat behind his large desk, his posture rigid. Too rigid. He held his shoulders square and his back straight, but Aveloria saw the slight tremor in the hands resting on the arm of his chair. He looked at her with a calm expression, but she knew him too well. He was masking his pain. She wanted to say something to scold him for leaving the temple too soon, but she kept quiet. This was meant to be a meeting.
