C83 Masks, Oaths, and a Throne.

Dontrell’s grip was firm against my back as he steered me forward. Every stare in the room burned into me, a silent accusation. My heart pounded, but I kept my face unreadable. The hall stretched wide, its harsh lights and towering ceilings pressing down on me.

At the banquet table, a waiter yanked out a chair, and I sank into it.

Clayton occupied the first seat. I was next