The throne room was packed.
Every noble who'd survived the night's purge had been summoned at dawn, dragged from their beds or their prayers or their desperate attempts to flee. They filled the vast hall like cattle herded for slaughter, their silk and jewels doing nothing to hide the stink of fear that permeated the air.
I stood beside Darius's throne, dressed in the full regalia of an empress. Someone—probably the same efficient servants who'd changed me while I slept—had prepared everything. The gown was midnight blue silk embroidered with silver thread that caught the light like stars. The crown on my head was surprisingly heavy, white gold studded with sapphires that matched my dress. I looked every inch the imperial consort.
I felt like a weapon being aimed at a target.
"You don't have to be here for this," Darius had said while I was being dressed. "What's about to happen... it won't be pleasant."
