Etzli, once again chained at the wrists, was escorted into the throne room. She'd never seen so many sculpted diamonds and pearls in her life. It was meant to give an appearance of staggering opulence, but she thought it looked cheap.
A long, golden carpet led the way to the dais, which was high enough to resemble a stage. Adding more theatrics was the lack of a visible throne in the throne room. There was only a red curtain.
Two rows of Royal Guards lifted their rifles and took aim at her.
Etzli flinched, shaking her chains. "Whoa! Whoa!"
Striding into the throne room, a gaunt courtier clapped his hands sharply, getting everyone's attention. He had withered, gray features and a long, hound dog face that looked like it had never known a smile.
"Don't sing," he commanded.
Etzli shook her head. "No, sir." She wasn't planning to.