The throne room was vast and formal, designed for decisions that affected realms. Five thrones sat on the raised dais, but the space also held rows of formal seating arranged in a semicircle facing the thrones — high-backed chairs upholstered in dark fabric, meant for council members, witnesses, visiting dignitaries.
Wish took her seat at the center throne, the crown conspicuously absent because she'd been asleep five minutes ago. Vish settled into one of the formal chairs in the front row, arms crossed.
The doors opened.
Eryx entered.
The difference between yesterday and today was stark. Yesterday he'd been ragged — forty years of imprisonment still clinging to him in the set of his shoulders, the exhaustion in his eyes, the clothes that looked torn.
