The words lingered in Tristan's mind as they stood in silence, staring at the throne. The silence dragged on, the two enjoying the silence, using it to digest what the other had just argued, saying nothing more that could show they had been swayed by the other. Only when Annabell landed on his head and began pecking him did Tristan move. Annabell flew off, and following her, he saw her flying towards a man wearing the golden armour of a king's guard.
Tristan narrowed his gaze and watched as Ser Bryan Halls approached, his white, almost grey skin unnatural in Veston bar the north. Looking at his cold black eyes, which seemed to pierce through his soul, he couldn't help but tense up. Annabell swooped around, landing on Tristan's shoulder.
