*Valka*
The throne room looks worse for wear. There had been a fight in our absence and someone had broken the centre table used for the meetings in half.
A new one obviously sits in the centre but Lucien's eyebrows arch at the fresh mahogany, as well as the smell of dried paint. Even the walls were painted anew.
When he looked to the members of the Council in question, no one would meet his gaze. It's like that feeling I got as a child whenever my father was leaving home and I knew I could snoop and break as much furniture as I could before he returned.
The memory makes my head spin.
