CHAPTER 154
The light of dawn spilled faintly through the high windows of the council chamber, cutting narrow stripes across the long table. The candles had burned down through the night, their wax pooled and hardened over the edges of their holders. Grace was still there, seated at the head of the table, the same parchment lying open before her. The inked words stared back at her like an accusation she could not dismiss.
She had read it over and over, yet it refused to make sense. It was not the phrasing of a soldier, nor of a councilman. It sounded older, ceremonial, even something belonging to an oath or a secret order.
When the chamber doors opened, the councillors entered in quiet steps. None dared greet her at first. Their eyes caught the sight of the burnt-down candles and the dark circles shadowing the King's eyes. Grace did not look up. Only when they had taken their seats did she finally lift her gaze.
"You're early," she said.
