The hall fell still at the servant's sudden entrance. His hurried steps and trembling voice shattered the delicate pause that had hung over Isabel's unspoken words.
"Your Majesty," the servant gasped, bowing low, "forgive me, but there is urgent news from the outer gate."
Aragon's eyes flicked toward him, irritation flashing at the intrusion. He raised a hand, steady, commanding. "Speak."
The servant swallowed hard. "Travelers from the northern province seek immediate audience. They claim the matter cannot wait."
A murmur rippled through the table. Aramis leaned back with a dramatic sigh, muttering just loud enough for Lara to hear, "Always the northern province. Do they have no sense of timing? Could they not wait until after dessert?"
The messenger looked flustered.
Aramis glared at him.
Lara stifled a laugh behind her hand, though Alaric's glare was sharp enough to silence a lesser soul.
