Amari's heart pounded as she and Nova stepped into the heavily perfumed inner chambers of the imperial palace.
The air was thick—cloying with too many scents, incense, and the overwhelming presence of unstable aether.
It curled like smoke around her throat, making her want to cough. But the real source of discomfort sat sprawled across a velvet-draped throne.
The Queen.
Barely upright, she was draped in shimmering silks, her crown slanted on her head as her painted lips curled into a dazed smile.
Her eyes were glazed, half-lidded, but sharp enough to track movement.
The guard who led them bowed stiffly and announced.
"Your Grace. The ones you asked for."
The Queen blinked, unbothered. She lifted a lazy hand, waving it as though swatting a fly.
"Mmm. Yes… yes, good. Bring them closer."
Her voice slurred slightly.
Amari clenched her fists. Nova remained stone-still beside her, his expression unreadable.
