Suddenly, the massive brass doors at the end of the hall swung open with a deafening crash.
Elara entered.
She did not walk with her usual measured, administrative pace. She marched. The midnight-black silk of her coat billowed behind her. Her face was completely devoid of emotion, her glass-bead eyes fixed dead ahead.
Behind her walked Commander Mahir. The beast-kin was covered in fresh blood, dragging a heavy, burlap sack across the pristine marble floor. A thick, dark trail of crimson followed him, staining the white stone.
The court parted like the Red Sea. Nobles scrambled backward, some tripping over their own robes to get out of her trajectory.
Elara ascended the dais, but she did not sit on the Regent's throne. She stood at the very edge of the elevated platform, looking down at the sea of terrified faces.
Her eyes immediately locked onto Minister Vane.
