The cold air blew through small solar.
Elias sat at the corner table, his silver circlet resting flat against his brow. His fingers were steady as he wrote across the parchment, sketching the structural boundaries of the Sovereign Charter of Three. Nico stood at his shoulder, his hand hovering over a small leather box of sand, ready to dry the ink the moment Elias finished a line.
The door groaned open.
Mina entered, her heavy riding boots striking the marble with a deliberate, aggressive rhythm. She stopped at the edge of the desk, her gaze dropping to the ink.
"You're climbing into the harness with the Northern girl," Mina noted, her voice a low, gravelly rasp.
Elias did not look up.
"The harness keeps the carriage from tipping over the cliff, Mina. If the council writes the succession order, we are all relegated to the ditch."
