The Throne Room smelled different. The usual wine and perfume had vanished, replaced by a sharp, sterile scent of white incense.
King Theodoric sat on his throne, looking small. Fiona stood next to him, almost shaking with vindictive glee. The Silver Knights waited before the dais.
In the center stood High Inquisitor Theon.
He looked as if he were made of ice and scripture...tall, thin, with short pale blond hair and eyes like watered-down milk. He wore silver-threaded silk robes over plate armor and held a staff topped with a crystal that glowed with a harsh white light.
When the heavy doors opened, and Mirabelle entered with Revas, Theon turned.
His milky eyes locked onto Revas instantly.
"So," Theon said. His voice was soft, melodic, and utterly devoid of warmth. "This is the 'Guardian'."
Revas paused in the doorway. He adjusted his cuff, his nose wrinkling slightly.
