The doors burst open with a resounding clang, echoing through the throne room like a war drum. I can't help but straightened, as every head turned. Even the King leaned forward on his throne, interest flickering through his otherwise cold, impassive face.
Flanked by two royal guards, with her human bodyguards trailing behind, my mother walked in.
She was still dressed in the same long, dark coat she had worn when she came to see me in the cell. Her hair was pinned neatly at the back of her head, not a strand out of place. There were no jewels, nor crown, but she didn't need them. Power clung to her like a second skin, in the icy calm of her expression. Cold and composed. Terrifying.
The Council members stirred in their seats, their whispers cutting through the air like blades.
"This...this wasn't approved," Lord Marseille managed, his earlier confidence cracking as he turned to the King, "Your Majesty, this is far too dangerous Surely, she's not permitted—"
