"Cease your recklessness."
At the near front was the Grand Vizier and his aides, none of whom dared speak.
Far behind them was the once Royal Family—wives, cousins, uncles, children, and of course, Cyrus's brother, whom he called Naeem in his diary, and his daughter... Huda.
Cyrus's bloodline stood draped in mourning silks; hatred loud in their eyes.
To their right was the Council—scholars, judges, and high nobles.
The ones who were most annoying under Cyrus's rule, now blinking in fear at his killer.
Further along the sides were city governors, military commanders, spiritual heads, diplomatic envoys, and foreign observers.
All of these people of high positions stayed completely silent, unable to do anything but watch history shift before their very eyes.
Only then, when Malik gazed upon them all, did he let his hand fall.
"There's no one in this hall who can stand against me."
His voice wasn't loud, but it buried everyone in that chamber like a tombstone.
