The silence came back into the study like water filling a hole. Soren stayed behind the wide desk, his boots heavy on the floorboards, his eyes anchored to the tarnished silver coin that had cost thirty mages their lives in the dark.
A light knock rattled the iron hinges.
Aldric stepped into the room, a thick bundle of linen-wrapped folders tucked under his arm. The secretary didn't look at the empty chairs or the ink smudges on the table; his eyes went straight to the emperor's face, taking in the grey color of Soren's skin and the dark, bruised hollows beneath his eyes.
"You look," Aldric said, stopping two steps from the threshold as he selected his word with the dry, careful precision of a clerk counting gold pieces, "absolutely terrible, my lord."
Soren let out a short, rough breath through his nose. "Thank you, Aldric. Your honesty is always a comfort."
