The courtyard still smelled of iron and smoke.
My blade hung loose in my hand, the edge painted with someone’s final breath. The sound of the city—bells, wind, distant chaos—dropped into a ringing silence as the soldiers before me bent their knees. One by one, armor clinking like a dirge, the men of the royal guard lowered their heads.
“Your Highness,” one murmured, voice trembling, “we await your command.”
For a heartbeat, I couldn’t speak. The words caught in my throat like a stone. I’d spent lifetimes chasing this—obedience, control, recognition—but now that it was laid bare at my feet, it didn’t feel like triumph. It felt like judgment.
Liora stood beside me, her face pale under the flickering torchlight. “Kael,” she said softly, “you need to answer them.”
Her voice snapped me bac
