The hearing chamber was smaller than the great hall, but no less crowded.
Nobles packed the benches. Servants lined the walls. Even a few common citizens had been admitted, their faces a mixture of hope and fear. The charter's legality was being debated, but the real battle was for hearts.
Seren sat in the front row of the gallery, her hands clasped in her lap. Beside her, Elena the kitchen girl watched with wide eyes.
"First witness," the clerk called. "Lysa of Silvermoor."
The room went quiet.
Lysa walked to the witness stand. She wore her best dress; simple grey wool, clean but patched at the elbows. Her hair was pulled back from her face. Her hands were steady.
She looked nothing like the carefree friend who teased Seren about love letters and stole pastries from the kitchen. She looked like someone who had survived.
"State your name and position," the clerk said.
"Lysa. I am...I was...a servant in the guest wing. Now I am the queen's personal attendant."
