Damian exhaled as the doors to the council chamber finally closed behind him with a satisfying thud. The silence that followed was not true silence; he could still hear the rustle of guards shifting along the corridor and the distant echo of announcements filtering in from the lower halls, but compared to the last two hours of posturing and simpering from nobles desperate to declare their loyalty, it was a godsend.
They had lined up like penitents, every lord, baron, and would-be savior of the Empire, falling over themselves to swear that of course they'd never supported Patricia, that they'd always believed in Gabriel's suitability, and that they'd personally sent letters denouncing the image before it was even released. That it was a blessing, truly, that such a scandal had rooted out the traitors.
Liars, every last one of them.
