CHAPTER 143
The council chamber was already filled when Grace entered. The air was heavy with the smell of parchment, ink, and wax. Scrolls, ledgers, and bundles of notes had been stacked onto the long oak table, some bound tightly with cord, others half-opened where eager hands had already begun pulling them apart.
Grace took her place at the head, the high-backed chair carved with the crest of the crown. The councillors shifted in their seats. Some had ink stains on their fingers, others the weary eyes of men who had not left the archives since the last summons.
"Begin," Grace said, her voice even.
Councillor Vera stood first. She was practical in her manner, never one for dramatics. She placed a folded set of papers on the table and looked directly at Grace.
