There was a brief pause before he said, “The way I was at the justice hearing—it’s going to be the same today.”
As in, he was going to be the hardened, merciless man he was rumored to be. The statement wasn’t regretful, but warning. It wasn’t necessary. His reputation was essential to his power.
“I shouldn’t call youYour Terrifying-nessin front of everybody, then?”
That almost earned a smile. “No.”
“Noted.”
His lips parted again, but he swallowed whatever he was about to say. The hesitation instantly put me on edge. Harthon was never one to stutter.
“What is it?” I asked directly.
He nodded at a guard who began opening the door. Placing a hand on my lower back, he ushered me in before I could press him. Rather than leading, he kept me at his side. A cavernous circular room stretched before us, ornate arches trailing up stone walls, converging in a jeweled chandelier that descended in the middle of the space. Red and green gemstones glowed in the candlelight that emanated from the chandelier and torches lining the windowless walls. That was all I was able to take in before the room quieted and I was struck with the weighty attention of countless eyes.
We’d entered at the head of the room, upon a raised stone dais that overlooked the space. A grand wooden table, an extravagant throne, and several other seats were all that shared the platform with us. There was nothing and no one to hide behind as hundreds of people stared up at us.
Chin up. Shoulders back.
It was an effort not to cower behind Harthon as we stood in the silence. My eyes trailed through the crowd, seeking out a friendly face. I found it in a leather-clad Callen, who stood near the platform with Ana.
He offered a wink, and my shoulders relaxed a touch.
One by one, heads descended in a wave as every guest bowed. Harthon didn’t give any signal to release them. Instead, he made them wait there, knees bent and backs hunched in submission as his hand guided me toward the table, where he pulled out a tall chair beside the throne. With imaginary grace, I sat, and he carefully pushed it in, the sound of wood scraping rock echoing through the room. He took his seat on the throne and settled into the cushions, legs spread in possessive ownership.
Slowly, he surveyed the room, taking in the bent bodies holding the bow far longer than was comfortable. When he was done, he reached for the goblet of wine set before him, taking a long draw. Only then did he give a decisive nod and released the crowd from their bows. Without further ceremony, chatter gradually resumed as musicians in the corner tuned their strings.
Apparently, Harthon wasn’t one for entrance speeches.
With nothing to do but sit, I eyed Ana, wanting to get my apology over with. I’d barely shifted my legs to stand when Harthon said, “No.” He didn’t even glance my way, only spoke discreetly from behind his goblet.
I studied him, his arrogant posture. He would never descend into the crowd, like he was their equal. The same apparently went for me.
Besides, his cabinet was currently trudging up the stairs to the platform, each of them bedecked in jewels and gold wherever possible. Fingers, necks, belts, woven into robes. It was a shock no one crumpled to the ground beneath the weight of their peacocking.
One by one, they approached the table, bowing and greeting us by title. Lord Alrich, sixth in the line, was the first to linger.
“The crown is lovely, Ladymagvis,” he said pleasantly, eying the gold upon my head.
I offered a tight-lipped smile in response.
He tilted his head, the movement bird-like. “It reminds me of something a Princeps’ Lady might wear.”
The statement felt masked in implication.
“It is something amagvismight wear,” I corrected.
“Of course,” he agreed easily. “I meant it only as a compliment. A Princeps’ Lady is the highest a woman can rise in society.”
Ah, yes. The highest a woman could ever hope to be was an extension of a man. How rich.
My smile turned razor-sharp. “And how high is it thatyouhope to rise?”
Alrich was good at tempering his reactions, but he couldn’t stop the slight wobble in his amiable smile. “I simply meant to compliment you.” His examination moved from my crown to my face. “You look as lovely as the crown. So much so that I question whether the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?” Harthon asked.
“Of the attempted attack, of course.”
