The council chamber had been empty for almost an hour, but its silence still carried the weight of every unspoken word. The polished table reflected the flickering candlelight, and the faint scent of wax and ink clung to the air.
Kaerth hadn't meant to linger, but something in him resisted returning to his rooms just yet. He sat at the far end of the table, fingers drumming lightly against the wood, trying to shake the memory of the Emperor's tight jaw, of the way Ignareth's gaze had lingered across the room.
He was still lost in thought when the sound of boots broke the stillness.
"I thought you'd run off by now," Ignareth's voice came, smooth and edged with amusement.
Kaerth turned to see him standing in the doorway, cloak draped carelessly over one shoulder. "And I thought you'd be halfway across the palace by now, whispering in someone else's ear."
Ignareth's mouth curved. "Maybe I'm exactly where I want to be."
