[Third Person].
Draven did not react outwardly, but his fingers tightened subtly against the armrest of the throne.
Estella leaned even closer. "You think hiding what you are makes you stronger?" she whispered. "You think they would still kneel… if they knew?"
His gaze sharpened, a storm brewing in it.
Estella straightened slowly and stepped back, giving the hall her profile again. Then she said clearly, voice carrying, "You sit on a throne built on lies."
Murmurs rippled faintly through the Elders. Meanwhile, Draven's eyes never left her. She met his gaze and smiled again—manipulative, daring.
"Go on," she said. "Tell them. Tell them what you truly are."
The challenge hung in the air like a drawn sword.
Draven's fury simmered beneath stillness, but he did not rise to it. He would not let her destabilize him. He definitely would not give her that satisfaction.
"What do you want?" he asked instead.
