Emma sat frozen, her thoughts tangled and frayed, struggling to process what had just transpired. None of this was what she had expected when she first agreed to stay in Anbord.
The first shock had been the council itself. In every great kingdom she knew of, the structure was always the same: a sovereign at the head, perhaps wives or consorts in the shadows, and ministers or elders managing the rest. Businesslike. Cold. Predictable.
But Anbord was different. The council was not a collection of subordinates—it was a family. She had seen the way they looked at each other, the unspoken trust that bound them. Her spies had confirmed it, too, though she knew the empire was well aware she had spies. The fact that none of them were touched only made her more uneasy. It wasn't mercy. It was confidence. They allowed her to see what they wanted her to see. And the moment she realized that, she called off her own mission. Anything else would have been suicide.
