While Zafira pressed her body against Leonhardt's in the warmth of her silken bed, another chamber stirred—one wrapped in velvet darkness, tucked beneath the true throne.
Seven thrones formed a ring here. Smaller than their master's, but carved from the same bone and obsidian. They sat in silence... until the first voice broke through.
"She's clinging to him again."Lilim's words fell flat and reverent. Her fingers traced the side of her cracked horn as she leaned back, one leg draped over the arm of her chair. "He said she could sleep beside him, but not once did he look at me like that."
"You always say that," Nessa murmured, draped sideways over her own throne. Her voice was dreamy, breath thick with want. "Yet Master always lets you speak first."
"He only lets her speak because she mimics Zafira," Vyx chimed in from the floor, half-sprawled, legs bouncing. "It's creepy."
"It's devotion," Lilim snapped.
