In the silence that followed Malcolm's declaration, the ambient temperature of the lobby seemed to plunge into a frozen void.
Tucked into the shadow of a towering pillar, Kaelan stood alongside Marcus. The two assistants were completely rigid, barely daring to draw breath as they watched the staggering domestic warfare unfold before them. Marcus's hands were clamped tight at his sides, his jaw locked in a hard line as he looked between his King and the unhinged matriarch. Kaelan, meanwhile, was adjusting his glasses with fingers that slightly trembled the frames rattled against his nose. The professional composure both men prided themselves on had been thoroughly obliterated by the intensity of the confrontation.
Joveline's face went from a dark, raging red to an ashen, deathly white. Her fingers clawed into the air, her chest heaving beneath her coat as she let out a sharp, hysterical screech that bounced off the glass walls.
