Damon and Sibyl spent some time alone together in his chambers, and then when evening fell, she excused herself, feigning tiredness. But in reality, she was just playing coy, wanting him to miss her absence.
Night settled slowly over the imperial palace.
The palace felt heavier at night, as everywhere was silent, and everyone's lips were zipped. Sounds traveled better at night and no one wanted to risk their heads off their shoulders.
In the Throne Room, several Lords had already gathered. They waited, thinking the Emperor would appear, but they just sat in silence.
Lord Rees paced near the long table, his boots striking the floor with annoying, impatient sounds. Mortimer sat quietly in one of the high-backed chairs, his aged hands folded over the head of his cane. Fausto stood near the window, staring out at the darkened palace gardens.
None of them looked particularly comfortable.
"This delay is pointless," Rees muttered. "We should have spoken to him yesterday."
