The Privy Council Chamber served as the heart of the Kingdom. Dark oak walls, heavy velvet drapes, and the lingering scent of old men planning wars filled the room.
King Theodoric sat at the head of the long table, with Fiona on his right. The twelve most powerful men in Sanctum surrounded them: the Treasurer, the General, the Spymaster, and several Dukes.
"The situation is untenable," General Kael grunted, slamming a fist on the table. "The people are in a frenzy. The Temple is overrun. They are calling her a Prophet. We need to silence her before she undermines the Crown's authority."
"Silence her how?" the Treasurer asked nervously. "She walked through poison. The Temple Guard collapsed just by looking at her guardian. We cannot simply arrest a Saintess."
"Then we discredit her," Fiona said, her voice cold. She was still upset about what happened at breakfast. "We declare her mad. The trauma of the fall shattered her mind. We lock her in an asylum for her own 'safety'."
"An excellent plan, sister," a voice rang out from the doorway. "But I'm afraid the asylum is full."
The heavy double doors swung open.
Mirabelle stood in the doorway, wearing an oxblood velvet gown. The high collar framed her face sharply, and a red jewel at her throat glowed softly. She looked every bit the Queen of Nightmares.
Behind her, Revas leaned against the doorframe, picking his teeth with a small piece of wood. He seemed bored, dangerous, and perfectly dressed.
"You have no business here!" the King shouted, standing up. "This is a closed session of the Privy Council!"
Mirabelle entered the room. The guards at the door did not stop her; they were too busy shaking under Revas' stare.
"I am a Princess of the Blood," Mirabelle stated calmly. "And I am the Voice of the Abyss. Anything involving the safety of this Kingdom involves me."
She reached the table. There were no empty chairs.
Fiona smiled, looking pleased with herself. "As you can see, Mirabelle, the table is full. There is no seat for you."
Mirabelle looked at the table. She looked at the twelve lords staring at her with disdain.
"Revas," she said softly.
"Yes, Mistress?" Revas pushed off the doorframe, strolling toward them.
"I seem to be missing a chair."
"A tragedy," Revas said, clicking his tongue. He walked along the table, looking over the council members as if he were a farmer checking his livestock.
He stopped behind Lord Vane, the Minister of Trade. Vane was a bulky man known for being greedy and cruel to peasants.
Revas placed a hand on the back of Vane's chair.
"Excuse me, My Lord," Revas whispered politely. "I believe you are sitting in my Lady's seat."
Lord Vane puffed up his chest. "I am the Minister of Trade! I have held this seat for twenty years! Be gone, you—"
Revas leaned down.
"Do you know what trade is, Lord Vane?" Revas asked, his voice conversational. "It is an exchange. A life for a life. A seat for a spine."
Revas gripped the chair more tightly. Smoke rose from his fingers, and the room filled with the smell of burning varnish.
"I can remove the chair," Revas offered, his violet eyes flashing red. "But it would be so much messier if you were still in it when I turned it to ash."
Lord Vane stared at the smoke, then at Revas' smile, which hinted at violence.
Vane let out a squeak and hurried out of the chair so quickly that he tripped over his robes and fell to the floor.
"How gracious," Revas said with a smile. He pulled the chair out for Mirabelle. "Your seat, Mistress."
Mirabelle sat. She smoothed her red dress and looked across the table at her father.
"Now," she said, clasping her hands. "Let us discuss the future of my Kingdom."
A heavy silence filled the room.
"This is preposterous!" General Kael barked. He was a scarred veteran, not easily intimidated. He stood up, hand on the hilt of his sword. "King Theodoric, are you going to let this... whore and her pet dictate to the Council?"
Revas froze.
He stood behind Mirabelle's chair like a loyal guard. When he heard the word 'pet', the air in the room felt heavier. The candles on the table flickered and went out, leaving the room in shadow, lit only by sunlight from the window and the glow of Revas' eyes.
Revas walked around the table. He moved slowly. Deliberately.
"General," Revas said softly. "I have fought in wars that would make your skirmishes look like bar brawls. I have eaten generals who commanded armies of millions."
He stopped in front of Kael. The General drew his sword...a reflex.
Revas laughed. He reached out and flicked the blade with his finger.
PING.
The steel shattered.
It did not bend or break in two. Instead, it shattered into thousands of tiny metal pieces that fell onto the table like confetti.
The General stared at the hilt in his hand, his mouth open.
"Pet is such a derogatory term," Revas whispered, leaning into the General's face. "I prefer 'knight'. Or 'The Thing That Goes Bump in the Night'."
He patted the General's cheek.
"Sit down, little soldier. Before I decide to play fetch with your head."
General Kael sat down slowly, his face pale.
Revas went back to his place behind Mirabelle and clapped his hands. "Now! Who has the minutes from the last meeting? I love hearing about council business."
Mirabelle hid a smirk. She turned to the King.
"The Abyss is hungry, Father," she said, her voice grave. "Revas tells me that the protective wards are failing. The sacrifice... wasn't enough."
"It wasn't?" the King whispered, pale.
"No," Mirabelle said. "The darkness requires more than just blood. It requires... justice."
She pulled a scroll from her sleeve and tossed it onto the table.
"This is a list of new laws I will be enacting. To appease the abyss."
The King picked it up, his hands shaking. "The...the Abolishment of the Noble Tax Exemption? The redistribution of the grain stores? Mirabelle, the nobility will revolt!"
"Let them," Mirabelle responded.
Mirabelle stood up. "Pass the laws, Father. Or I will let the Guardian loose in the city to collect the taxes himself. And his currency is not gold."
She turned and walked out. Revas lingered for a moment, looking at the trembling lords.
"Gentlemen," Revas bowed. "A pleasure. Lord Vane, you forgot your shoe."
He kicked the shoe toward the cowering man and followed his Mistress out the door.