[Imperial Palace—Throne Room—Later—LAVINIA'S POV]
The hall felt too small for the noise it held—a thousand breaths held and waiting.
Papa sat like a volcano at the center of it all, his crimson cloak a slash of daylight against the throne's black. I stood at his side, shoulders squared, Marshi's quiet weight at my feet.
Then Imperial Knights shoved Marquess Everett into the room, chains clanking like a funeral bell, and the court thinned into a tense hush.
Everett's face was of fear and anger. He went to his knees before us, hands clawing the floor, voice high and frantic. "Your Majesty… I—"
Papa lifted one slow hand and cut him off.
"Osric," he said instead, eyes like twin blades, aimed not at the man on the floor but at the Osric beside him. "What of… Caelum?"
Osric dipped his head, grave. "Captain Haldor made him swallow the poison, Your Majesty. Heis dead."
