The throne room of Simharian was a chamber of red-gold marble and towering pillars etched with flame motifs—each a testament to the kingdom's elemental heritage.
A stained-glass mural of the Phoenix Crown blazed above the dais where King Reganath Nemeanor sat, eyes sharp beneath a crown that looked more like a circlet of fire than gold.
Alex stood before him, flanked by Zahara, Lilia, and Mira.
Sophie wasn't there.
She had unsummoned herself as they weren't on a tour anymore. Kael and Bahir had noticed her missing presence, but the other waved it off, saying she had some work and had to go.
Reganath's red eyes, on the other hand, swept over the group—lingering briefly on his daughter, then on the sword at Alex's hip, and finally, curiously, on the other two girls standing a little too close to him.
"Alex," he said, his voice like gravel wrapped in heat. "You come bearing enemies bound in spells and speak of noble conspiracies before I've even had my midday tea."
