Adrien's chair creaked as he stood, his hand reaching for Angus's shoulder. The younger boy blinked in confusion, whispering something, but Adrien didn't answer. He just pulled him closer, steady and silent.
Cornelia's voice filled the pause like perfume: cloying, calculated, and designed to mask the stench of fear.
"You're angry, and you should be," she said smoothly. "Your servants failed you. But, Your Majesty…" her tone softened into something that almost sounded maternal, "you left your omega alone in that palace. What did you expect to happen? People lose direction without command."
Her words floated easily across the table, rehearsed, calculated to sound like reason. The sentence was meant to sound harmless until one heard what it implied.
Dax's head tilted slightly, just enough for the lamplight to catch the gold thread at his collar. His expression didn't change, but the stillness in the room did, like the air itself had decided to hold its breath.
