CHAPTER SEVEN: THE KING'S FLAME (Part two)
The throne room was quieter than it should've been.
No banners stirred.
No glyphs shimmered.
The resonance torches along the wall were extinguished—on purpose.
Only two figures waited inside.
King Vaelen, seated with one hand on his chin, fingers tapping once… twice… then still.
And beside him—Timishu, the queen.
She stood like a statue forged from quiet steel.
Back straight. Robes black. No crown. No sigil.
Just presence.
Zephryn stopped just past the arch.
The doors sealed behind him without a sound.
The king didn't look up at first.
"I expected you sooner."
Zephryn said nothing.
Vaelen's eyes finally lifted.
There was no cruelty in them.
But no warmth either.
Just weight.
"You've caused more stir than you realize."
Still, Zephryn said nothing.
The pendant around his neck pulsed once—faint and steady.
Timishu's eyes flicked toward it. Her head tilted slightly.
The king noticed.
"Solara used to walk through that same door without knocking," Vaelen said.
Almost casually.
Like the name wasn't made of glass.
Everything stopped.
Zephryn's jaw didn't move.
His body didn't shift.
But his pulse mark burned beneath the fabric.
Selka had frozen in that dorm the moment her name was spoken aloud.
Kaelen had clenched a blade.
Yolti had breathed differently.
But Zephryn?
He just stood there.
Until he spoke.
Slow. Sharp. Measured.
"Say her name again like it belongs to you…
and I will make this room remember what she died for."