Aldric stood in the grand hall of his palace, his fingers lightly tapping against the edge of his throne. The candlelight flickered across the polished stone floor, casting long shadows as the members of his war council gathered before him.
Edric's proposal had been unexpected, but not unintelligent. A political marriage would bring stability—at least on the surface. But Aldric had learned long ago that nothing in the game of kings and rulers was ever as simple as it seemed.
Across the chamber, Elya stood near the map table, arms crossed. Her golden hair was tied back, her sharp eyes scanning the faces of the gathered councilors. To her right, Lord Varin, a seasoned commander with more scars than hair, rested a hand on the pommel of his sword.
"So," Aldric said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "What do we think of Edric's offer?"