Whispers fell like wind before a storm.
Xavien led her down the steps, his boots a proud cadence against the rounded walls. Rows of jeweled rings, onyx diadems, and silver robes lined the chamber—all elves, all men.
At its heart sat the king, sagging in his iron throne. His face drooped to one side, eyes dull, grief dragging him into shadow.
The king is worse than I feared.
Xavien bowed.
“My king, I present Princess Amerei of Casqadia.”
He guided her forward, kissed her hand, then turned to stand beside him.
Amerei’s eyes flickered from son to father. She felt Viktor’s gaze like a weight at her back.
Not now. Not yet.
She bowed low.
“Your Majesty, I humbly beseech your blessing to be heard by this chamber.”
The king’s mouth opened, but only shallow, labored breaths came.
Xavien tapped his father’s hand, signet ring clicking softly.
“The king is rendered speechless by your beauty, Princess,” he declared, voice loud for all to hear. “We welcome you to Castle Draekenra, to our Senate Hall. State your reason to be heard.”
Amerei drew herself taller.
“I seek the aid of this chamber to unburden my people from tyranny. Elváliev is Casqadia’s oldest ally. And in her hour of peril, I call upon no other.”
“Tyranny?” Xavien’s tone edged sharp. “By what measure?”
Her heart pounded, but the lines she had carved the day before rose steady within her.
She spoke.
“I declare Zeporah Zrynon, daughter of Cyrus, traitor to Casqadia and threat to all Andórmanor.”
Murmurs rippled like distant thunder.
Amerei’s voice did not falter.
“I charge Zeporah Zrynon with usurpation of the highest order. Seventeen years ago she denied the elders their plenaryright to name a queen. Instead, she staged a silent coup, trading thirty of Elváliev’s assassins for her crown.”
Her spine was a blade as she continued.
“I charge her with willful neglect. In the wake of drought she withheld relief, forcing thousands to abandon their homes and flood to cities where no place awaited them. She dissolved the councils, silenced every voice but her own, and filled her court with strangers to our blood and burden.”
The chamber stirred, restless.
“She has siphoned our coffers, taxed without consent, forced martial law upon the outlands, suspended the judiciary, and named herself sole arbiter of law. She weakened our trade with Elváliev to court Tyra, enriching her enemies while spurning her only friend.”
She turned, seeking Viktor’s eyes. He stood stone-still, but she felt him—saw him—through the crush of power and silence.
The chamber hushed. She let it fall.
Then she said, clear as cut glass:
