While Larus was busy dismantling his father's pride in the north, Heena was buried under a mountain of paperwork that refused to shrink. The palace was quiet, the only sound the scratching of her quill against thick parchment.
Suddenly, she stopped. Her hand froze mid-air, the ink dripping a dark blotch onto a page.
She looked at the document she was about to sign. She read it once. Then again. Then a third time, her eyes narrowing until they were thin slivers of black.
It was a confession. A detailed, nauseatingly thorough admission of guilt.
The text was clear: the poison had been delivered by the High Priest's grandson. The motive? A delirious claim that Empress had betrayed God, that she was a stain on the divine fabric of the world. It was religious zealotry mixed with high treason.
