The next day…
The knock came at sunrise.
I was already awake.
I dressed quickly in the clothes left for me: black fitted trousers, a high-collared tunic trimmed with silver, a dark cloak fastening at my throat.
Simple. Practical. Strong.
The blade at my thigh felt reassuring as I strapped it on.
I opened the door.
Cassius stood there.
He gave a brief nod. "Come."
That was all.
I followed him without a word through the stone corridors of the Obsidian Throne.
When the great black iron doors of the Throne Room, (that's what they called it) swung open, the world seemed to hold its breath.
The room was vast and shadowed, lit only by high windows and the flickering of low torches.
At the far end, raised above the world on a dais of black stone, he sat.
The King.
He wasn't draped in robes or weighed down with golden crowns.
He didn't need them.
He wore simple black, cut perfectly to his broad shoulders, his posture loose but deadly.
