Hector led him toward an entryway stocked with half a dozen soldiers, more than any other door or corridor. The first two soldiers at either side nodded at Hector as they both approached, their bodies moving to open the great double doors as they neared. Just as the doors parted there was a shuffling from somewhere behind them and the voices lowered into hushed tones. Evan turned to see someone, a woman by the look of her, being escorted by two rows of a dozen soldiers, a sheath of black fabric draped over her head to disguise her face.
Hector moved next to Evan and used the extension of his arm to move him backwards as he stepped back, making room for the soldiers to escort their prisoner through the very entryway. The room fell into a silence as nearly every head turned to look at the prisoner. Clearly there was a lot that Evan had missed in only a short period of time. He wondered what other surprises were awaiting him.
As the convoy moved in through the entryway Hector took hold of his arm again and escorted him in afterward, bringing up the rear of the convoy into the room. It was more lavish than the monochromatic simplicity of the rest of the Military Complex, the glass walls depicting a fantastic view of the universe similar to the one in the Throne Room. Crown Soldiers in their finest military uniforms formed a perimeter along the walls of the room, each standing ramrod straight and at full attention.
The soldiers escorting the prisoner moved to the center of the room and formed a semi-circle around her, each of them standing at attention towards a focal point in the room. As the movement stopped Evan noticed a second circular formation of soldiers around a second prisoner, who also had a black hood around their head. He had the distinct feeling the second prisoner was male.
“Evander Nero,” a familiar voice called smoothly. It had been a long time since he last heard the Queen Mother’s cool voice, and even then it made his shoulders snap back. He turned his attention away from the prisoners and to the center of the room. Three ornate chairs were situated on a platform that constituted a throne, the Queen and Queen Mother in two and the empty third at Kyra’s side. They were each dressed in richly-colored robes with elaborate embroideries made of thick golden thread and jeweled crowns sat atop their meticulously adorned heads. There had not been such pomp and circumstance since the days of Kyra’s coronation and wedding ceremonies.
Evan bowed his head deeply before the Queen Mother and to the Queen, who looked down on him with wide eyes and a constrained smile. “Your Highnesses,” he greeted.
“I have not seen you in some time, Evander. You seem to have grown into a man worthy of your father’s name,” the Queen Mother spoke. Her words were an unwelcome surprise to him. Though he felt she was culpable in the death of his parents, verbalizing such an accusation would be tantamount to treason and subject to the severest of punishments. He had long ago learned to keep his anger contained within him and would not let her brazen greeting alter the habit.
“You honor me, Your Highness. Surely I am unqualified to be present at a proceeding such as this?”
“On the contrary, Evander, your lifelong friendship with the Crown has conferred upon you a most unique position. The Queen tells me you have been a trusted companion of both hers and her husband’s, and by extension you are a trusted appointee of these proceedings.”
Evan took a moment to survey his surroundings again, the formations of Crown Soldiers standing pointedly about the room around the two faceless prisoners, seeming less ceremonial and more like a trial.
“Please, join us,” she requested, her arm extending towards the empty seat on the throne.
The Queen Mother’s mention of Owyn made him realize that it was the King’s presence that was missing from the room, the third chair a glaring reminder of his absence. He couldn’t imagine where the King could possibly be that would take him away from the gathering, and surely they would not invite him to sit in the King’s place.
His confusion must have been evident; the Queen stood from her seat, the thick robe she wore draping down so that it grazed the floor. Her hand extended towards the empty seat and her reserved smile invited him to the join at her side to preside over the court.
Despite his confusion he knew better than to blatantly ignore the commands of the sovereign, and so stepped onto the raised platform and sat down stiffly into the King’s seat. The Queen regained her own seat and looked toward her mother, nodding her permission to continue. The Queen Mother sat up straighter, her posture ever more prominent.
“Unmask the prisoners,” she commanded. Evan watched as Hector and Alcander, who he hadn’t noticed was in the room, walked up to each of the two prisoners and simultaneously unhooded them. Thea Thanatos’ eyes were unmoved and trained on the Queen Mother, her face set in stone as she gazed up at the familiar woman.