Selphira Stormont remained still.
Still, while obsidian split the earth.
Still, while magma chewed the stone.
Still, as Farren's lightning laced the air like nerves gone mad.
She stood alone, a silhouette of black velvet and silver trim, her cloak trailing behind her like smoke caught in time. Not a single strand of her hair moved. Not a finger twitched on her gloved hands. She didn't flinch when Raen's frost arrows shattered nearby. She didn't blink when Vessia screamed.
She simply watched.
It wasn't apathy.
It was calculation.
The nobles fought like they had something to prove. The rebels fought like they had nothing to lose.
Selphira?
She fought for herself. But not yet.
Not until it mattered.
She knew her power was great, perhaps the closest to the prince after Orien. Yet, she already had the backing of Vykrall and Stormont. Her only goal now was to spare the Stormont family the shame Vaerin had brought them.
