The morning sun through the palace windows felt abrasive. Eris stood in the center of their shared chambers, her hands resting at her sides, watching Soren. The aftermath of the ritual had left her with a hollow ache in her chest, not just emotional, but the physical sensation of her mana-veins being scraped raw.
"I can help with the interrogation," Eris said, her voice like grinding stones. "I know how Vetra thinks. I know where the gaps in her defense will be. If I'm in the room—"
"No." Soren stopped, turning to face her. He looked every bit the Emperor who had just signed a death warrant, his face a wall of immovable ice. "You are not going near the dungeons. You are not going near the council. You are not doing anything today that requires more effort than breathing."
"Soren, I am fine," she snapped, though the slight tremor in her hands betrayed her. "The seal didn't shatter. It's just… strained."
