Elowen Ashwood looked up from her parchment, her emerald eyes darting from Jack's unreadable face to the King's towering frame.
Her mind raced through the political calculations: total annihilation at the hands of an immortal vanguard, or surviving as high-ranking advisors to an absolute monarch with the potential to place an Ashwood maiden in the royal bedchamber.
Without uttering a single word, Elowen reached for the silver stylus resting beside the document.
She brought the sharp tip to her index finger, pricking the pale skin until a bead of crimson welled up, and pressed her blood firmly into the signature seal. She channeled her mana, watching as the parchment absorbed her life force with a faint, golden flare.
Sylvea Starling followed immediately, her small hands shaking so violently that her signature was jagged, her blood smearing slightly across the seal before it locked.
