The council chamber was warm, the afternoon sun streaming through the high windows.
Aeron stood at the head of the table, a report in his hand. His voice was steady. His posture was rigid. His face was pale.
Seren watched him from her seat. Something was wrong. She had felt it through the bond for weeks; a dull ache, a creeping fatigue that he refused to acknowledge. But today was different. Today, his hands trembled.
"—and the eastern provinces have requested additional funds for road repairs," Aeron continued. "I recommend we approve half now and revisit the remainder after the harvest assessment."
Lord Pemberton nodded. Lady Ashworth frowned. The debate began.
Aeron set down the report. He reached for his water glass. His fingers missed.
The glass shattered on the floor.
"Aeron?" Seren was on her feet.
He turned to her. His eyes were glassy, unfocused. "I'm fine."
Then he collapsed.
Chaos erupted.
