Chapter 37 — The Shape of Conviction
The leader of the True Crown revealed himself not with banners, nor with bloodshed, but with words.
They arrived at dawn, carried by riders who wore no heraldry and bore no weapons. Simple cloaks, neutral colors. Their horses were well cared for, their posture disciplined. They looked like messengers.
That, Elowen thought later, was the first lie.
She stood in the Hall of Assembly when the riders were brought before her and Kael. The room was still new in its purpose chairs arranged in wide arcs, voices still learning how to speak without permission. Morning light filtered through tall windows, catching dust motes that drifted like suspended thoughts.
The lead rider bowed not deeply, but respectfully.
"We bring a message," he said. "From Lord Alaric Thorne."
The name struck the room like a blade sliding free of its sheath.
Kael went utterly still.
Ryn's hand twitched toward the dagger at his belt before he mastered himself.
