A hush falls over the courtyard, so absolute that the flickering of the torches sounds like thunder. I see the nobles below—both human and elf—straighten their backs, their faces shifting from indignation to a smug, satisfied glow. They are drinking in the sight of the defiant Cyrina finally bowing her head.
Beside me, I can feel Lucian's tension ease slightly, though his eyes remain wary. He thinks I've finally learned to play the game.
"Your Imperial Majesties of Eryndor. Your Sovereign Majesties of Elvanyr. Noble lords and ladies of the Empire, and esteemed Houses of the Dominion," I begin, my voice projected with a regal clarity that carries to every corner of the stone courtyard.
"I am very grateful that everyone came at my short-noticed invitation, despite the inconvenience I caused this morning."
