Queen Morgana shot to her feet.
From two seats down, her youngest son, Caelum, flinched.
The boy's voice trembled as he stared up at her towering frame. His pale face was shadowed by the memory of events he'd never truly escaped.
"M-Mother…? W-Where… where are you going?"
She didn't hear him.
Or perhaps she simply didn't care to answer.
Her hand slipped into her pocket ring, retrieving a slender, jet-black communication crystal. She lifted it to her lips, feeding a touch of mana into it.
A voice answered immediately.
Cold. Feminine. Unhurried.
"What is it? Did you get bored with the feast already?"
Morgana's expression didn't move an inch. Her tone carried no warmth, no patience. "I want you to come here."
On the other end, the woman scoffed.
"You know I hate gatherings like this. It's all noise, sycophants, and a room filled with the stink of false smiles."
Morgana didn't answer.
