King Maelor stepped to the head of the oval table, his massive shadow falling across the dark wood.
Jack Kaiser stopped half a pace to the King's left, his dark coat falling loosely around his shoulders, his hands tucked comfortably into his trousers.
Rhys stood to the right, his hands resting naturally near the hilts of his twin daggers.
The silence in the annex stretched for five long, suffocating seconds.
Elowen Ashwood rose to her feet, the green velvet of her gown rustling softly against the duskwood.
Her green eyes moved from Maelor's grim expression to the human standing at his side, her aristocratic composure masking the tension coiling in her shoulders.
"Your Majesty," Elowen spoke, her voice clear, resonant, and carrying the measured cadence of an experienced courtier.
