Perfect Excuse

Aeric's eyes were narrowed and silent as he watched all of them step out of the courtroom. Soon, the place was completely free of those olden and their Messenger lackies.

The grand chamber fell unusually quiet, and the thick tapestries did very little to muffle the heavy silence that hung between Aeric and his mother.

Mother Guinevere stood up, mind throbbing and tired. Rather than have the knightguard by her side do it, she walked to the table by the window and poured herself some wine from the large bottle.

She gulped it down quickly and without sips, then took another, before stepping away.

Aeric watched her as she made her way back to the center of the courtroom and stood near the hearth, her elegant gown shimmering in the firelight, her posture regal as always, but her expression betrayed unease.

The Prince himself was sat on the armrest of a high-backed chair, one leg dangling while the other rested against the floor.