The Imperial Audience Chamber was designed to make visitors feel small. The vaulted ceilings disappeared into shadows, and the twin thrones of gilded oak were set on a raised dais of polished obsidian.
Today, however, the intimidation wasn't architectural. It was radiating entirely from the two people sitting on the thrones.
Kaia smoothed the heavy, midnight-blue wool of her skirts. The plan was simple, but the execution required absolute theatrical perfection. They had to convince three seasoned, treacherous politicians that they were accidentally leaking classified military intelligence.
"You are tapping your finger," Aeron noted quietly.
He was seated beside her, leaning back in his throne with a posture of supreme, deceptive relaxation. He hadn't bothered to wear his formal medals. He looked like a man who had already won the game and was simply waiting for the loser to realize it.
