Queen Seraphira knew something was up the moment the Councilors requested a private meeting. They rarely came to her like this, unannounced and together.
Now they sat around the square table in one of the palace drawing rooms, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension.
The drawing room was one of Seraphira's quieter chambers, reserved for more intimate discussions rather than the formal court.
Tall arched windows lined the walls, draped in luxurious-threaded curtains. At the center of the room stood a polished obsidian table, its surface reflecting the golden glow of enchanted lanterns suspended above it.
Seraphira was more at ease here, and most importantly, she could not risk her citizens suspecting that she was weakening.
Rumors moved faster than magic in a kingdom.
Two guards stood like statues at the corners of the room, vigilant and unmoving. Whatever was spoken in this chamber would die within its walls.
