Arik removed the crown the moment the last ceremonial doors closed behind them.
Rubis had objected before they left the Golden Court. Cassian had reminded him that the formal portraits were not finished. Arik had listened to neither.
Now the crown rested on a low black table in the private reception room, still carrying enough sovereign ether to cast gold over the polished stone around it.
Liam dropped into one end of the long sofa beside him. Several hours of ceremony had loosened his brown hair around his shoulders, and the gold in his eyes remained after the Gate opening. His charcoal ceremonial coat was still fastened perfectly because Rubis had apparently designed it to survive war.
Mezos shut the doors behind them and exhaled.
His own formal clothing had suffered more. The collar of his dark ceremonial jacket was open, one cuff had been undone, and he looked ready to remove the entire thing if another official approached him.
