A Throne Without a King
"Stop acting," he said, eyes drifting across their faces, pausing just long enough that each man felt exposed. Not a single person sat there without wanting the mess to work in his favor
No one answered.
A hush sank into the walls, making the air feel heavier above the wide wooden table. Not even the staff along the sides dared move, heads dipped, holding their breath like it might break something.
Flickering light came from the ceiling fixture.
Faint light danced on the smooth floor, then slid over wide eyes. Stillness broke as dark shapes twisted, moving fast beneath trembling skin.
Somewhere beyond the walls, a soft rattle of armor broke the hush - Leon's mark on the city, stamped beneath cold stars. Footsteps tapped on rock. Metal creaked, shifted. Not loud, yet never gone - the kind of sound that settles into bones, telling you who holds what now, no matter how you feel about it.
