The throne room of Nightspire was built for intimidation, and it was excellent at its job.
Vaulted ceilings, dark stone, iron sconces that cast light in patterns designed to leave half the room in shadow. The throne itself sat on a raised dais, carved from a single piece of black granite, and looked like the kind of chair that judged you for sitting in it.
Serena stood to the right of the dais. Dex stood behind her, arms folded, posture communicating that he was a guest in this castle and a predator in every room, and anyone who mistook the first for weakness would learn the second quickly.
Riven sat on his throne. Remus stood at his left, sword sheathed but hand resting on the hilt with the studied casualness of a man who had been told he was going to be stabbed today and had taken the information personally.
The doors opened.
They filed in.
