Jhessail saw the court as a living thing – it had its moods, its rhythms, its usual behaviours. She had lived there almost her entire life and it was changing before her eyes. The council chamber cleared for a private audience, troubled looks exchanged between the departing elves, the queen’s own brother standing guard outside; something momentous was about to be discussed.<br/><br/>She might have called it an intimate gathering, just the six of them and the queen, but the imperious look in her grandmother’s eyes instantly dispelled that notion. The queen was here, not as friend or family, but as a monarch. Jhessail’s instincts warned her that every formality would be required.<br/><br/>“Your majesty,” she greeted the queen, and dipped into a curtsey, low and graceful. Following the queen’s suggestion, she took a seat, folding her hands in her lap.<br/><br/>Jhessail watched the queen as her mother spoke. It occurred to her that she might one day stand where her grandmother now stood, with similar coldness upon her face and placing duty before all else. It was what she had trained all her life to do, but the thought still unnerved her.<em>Heavy is the burden of the solitary tree atop the hill.</em><br/><br/>“You will always have my love and my support,” Jhessail said, meeting the queen’s eyes. “But, if I may be frank, I fear composure and presence will no longer suffice. Our people require answers. Rumors are spreading, and uncertainty and suspicion grow in many minds. We must give them what they need or we will lose their trust.”<br/><br/>A time for action and frankness. Jhessail touched the ring on her right hand. She knew what discussion she wished to have.