The conversation with Borin had barely ended before the hall shifted again. Trafalgar caught it near the eastern entrance, where conversations thinned, heads turned and one of the smaller noble groups drew aside without being asked, until a narrow path opened between the banners.
Nerith di Myrrhvale came toward them, several of her delegation trailing behind. Their sea-colored formal clothes stood apart from the gold, crimson and black of the hall, and Lyren straightened when he noticed his sister.
The difference from Meraval struck at once. There she had been one claimant among several, even as the balance tilted her way. Here, nobody wondered whether she would become head of House Myrrhvale.
She already carried the title, and people treated her accordingly. Nobles waited rather than step into her path, lesser houses lowered their voices, and even those with no tie to Myrrhvale tracked her.
