With a small motion from Laurice, the doors began to open.

  First there was just a gentle rumble. Then steadily stone separated from stone with quiet inevitability, revealing a chamber far larger than the structure outside should have allowed.

  Light poured across the floor in pale bands. The dust kicked up by the door sparkled in the light as it fell back to earth. At the centre stood a wide, deliberate emptiness.

  Waiting.

  For me.

  Laurice entered first.

  I followed, suddenly aware of Ruth at my side, of the echo of my boots, of the treacherous volume of my own breathing.

  Every sound declared my presence.

  The chamber rose in tiers to either side, benches filled with figures arranged by rank or importance or some other system I did not yet understand. Some were wearing fine armour, with the appearance of being grown on their body, much like Olin’s only finer. Some wore delicate robes, made with a fabric I had never seen before.

  They were not idle.

  They were in the middle of something.

  A debate was in full swing.

  “… this cannot be allowed to stand…”

  “...tradition has its limits…”

  “...if we break faith now…”

  The words overlapped, controlled but heated, fragments drifting down like sparks from a fire too large to see in full.

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  Two members of the court seemed especially engaged in the debate. They sat on opposing sides of the hall. I guessed they were not on the same side or faction.

  And then they noticed me.

  The conversation faltered.

  Not entirely.

  But enough.

  Laurice made his way toward the open floor.

  We followed.

  I felt the weight of observation settle onto my shoulders like something almost physical.

  Measured.

  Judged.

  Filed away.

  I could hear the whispers spread out through the crowd as realisation of my presence grew. The two speakers from before confided with their nearby colleagues. One even went as far to point in my direction, shaking their head in disdain and recoiling from me.

  It stung a little to notice. Up to this point, there had been checks, but everyone had been pleasant enough. I hadn’t thought anyone here was openly hostile to my presence.

  Now the gathered attention bore down on me, twice as heavy as before.

  At the far end of the chamber stood a raised platform.

  Seats waited there. Elegant, crafted from the finest materials and clearly a level above the rest of the seating we had passed so far.

  One larger and finer than the rest.

  Empty.

  I leaned slightly toward Eithna.

  “Who sits there?” I whispered.

  “The King,” she replied.

  Just that.

  No embellishment.

  Oh good.

  No pressure.

  I felt a nervous laugh begin to bubble up, somehow I kept it down. I couldn’t exaggerate the sense of relief I felt once the urge had passed.

  Laurice stopped.

  The doors behind us closed.

  Soft.

  Final.

  Silence gathered itself.

  Not complete, never complete, but expectant.

  I could feel the room's energy begin to gather. Ready to transform into ceremony.

  And then a trumpet rang out.

  Clear. Commanding.

  Ancient.

  I could feel the focus of attention shift from our direction.

  Then from the top of the hall, a clear voice called out.

  “All rise for the King.”