Alpha Ashmere Park:
The private court doors opened sharply.
"The French ambassador, Alpha Ashmere," the guard announced loudly. "Ambassador Stephen Gates."
Alpha Ashmere rose from his chair immediately.
The courtroom itself remained dim beneath the glow of candle chandeliers suspended above the long polished table. Thick velvet curtains covered most of the windows despite the late hour. The room smelled faintly of parchment, cedarwood, and burning wax.
Clementine remained seated beside her husband, graceful and elegant as always.
Her gloved fingers rested lightly atop her lap while diamonds shimmered faintly around her throat beneath the candlelight. Her expression revealed nothing as the ambassador entered.
Stephen Gates walked into the chamber with measured steps. He was shorter than Alpha Ashmere expected. Considerably shorter.
Yet the man carried himself with enough confidence to fill the room regardless of his height.
