No one in the streets recognized the cloaked figure slipping into Parliament through the narrow door sunk into the cobblestone alley, and none of the guards took notice of him, either. In the meeting hall, despite the late hour, the members of Parliament were clustered around a central table, illuminated by two gas lamps that flickered from the ceiling. The harsh wind had dismantled the main turbine, and the electro-current had sputtered and died only an hour into the meeting. Gwen was sitting on a bench in the shadows, next to the other assistants and apprentices. She was trying to take notes, but was having trouble following the heated debate. Once again, talk in the Parliament meeting hall was of Viviana and the Dominae. “Everyone knows we’re loyal to the old king,” one Parliament member, Animas Robin, was saying. “How can we reject Viviana, his daughter, and still remain loyal to the Melore bloodline?” This question was met with boos from the fifty or so men and women gathered in the hall.
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