CHAPTER 141
The air in the council chamber grew colder the following night.
Two guards entered first, dragging between them a man. His steps were uneven, as though he had not walked freely for months. His beard was ragged, his hair matted, his face hollowed by the long dark of the cells. And yet, when his eyes lifted, they carried no defeat. Only a steady watchfulness, as if he knew he had already survived worse than this.
Grace did not rise from her seat. She sat still, her hand resting on the edge of the council table, her gaze sharp as the man was forced to kneel.
"State his name," she ordered.
Councillor Demas stepped forward, parchment in hand. "This is Kalen of the North. Captured during the border skirmishes years past. Sentenced to lifelong confinement for refusing oaths to the crown."
Kalen lifted his head, and his eyes locked with Grace's. His voice came low, rough, but steady. "I gave no oath to a false king then. I will not bow to one now."
