Lanthar sits on the throne.
He is tall and still, with silver eyes and dark hair threaded with white that catches the light like veins of ore in rock. He stays seated when we enter.
Every other being in this hall adjusted when we crossed the threshold. Heads turning. Weight shifting. Recalibrations across every group.
He didn’t move.
His hands rest on the arms of the throne, long-fingered and relaxed. His face is unlined. He wears no crown.
He looks at Maximus first, then me, then Mira.
A line moves through his face. I almost miss it. The long-fingered hand on the right arm of the throne tightens once and releases. The gold thread running up the throne behind him pulses once out of rhythm.
Behind me, Mira’s breathing catches. A single sharp inhale that she cuts off before it finishes. I turn enough to see her hands close at her sides. The fingers don’t open.
The gold beneath her boots brightens. Bright enough that the Fae nearest the entrance turn to look.
Lanthar’s gaze stays on her one beat longer than it stayed on Maximus or me.
Then it lifts.
Maximus walks forward.
I fall into step beside him. The floor brightens under our boots as we walk. The gold veins flare and don’t fade.
Brighter under mine than under his.
Then the stone takes up our heartbeats and carries them.
The vibration runs through my boots into my chest. The mark on my chest pulses crimson against the front of my shirt, visible through the fabric.
Veyran’s shoulders draw up.
Maeven leans forward. Two inches, no more, from a man who hasn’t shifted since we entered. The mist above his delegation thickens, drifts to ankle height, and pools toward us across the stone.
Ithara turns on her platform. Her pale eyes find the gold under my boots, then move up to mine. Her lips have been moving without sound. They stop.
Syrenne’s heat trail thins. The shimmer around her pulls in close to her body.
Veyran’s jaw locks.
The hall goes quiet.
Beside me, Maximus’s hand finds mine. His fingers close, hold, release. The bond runs hot for that single contact and settles back to steady.
We stop ten feet from the base of the throne with Maximus at my left and Seraphina and Mira behind us.
Veyran steps forward.
His voice carries to every wall of the hall.
"Lord Maximus, vampire lord of the mortal realm. Lady Celeste, his bonded."
He looks at Maximus. Then at me. His gaze doesn't linger on either of us long.
A pause.
"High Princess Seraphina of the Black Forest, daughter of the High King. High Princess Mira, granddaughter of the High King."
