The halls of Redwood were quieter than usual.
Too quiet.
Ethan had walked them for years. Knew their rhythms—the footsteps of the guards, the sounds of council members in argument or laughter, the hum of living, breathing power.
But now… something felt wrong.
Tense.
Shifted.
Like something in the foundation had cracked, and no one had noticed except him.
Except maybe her.
He watched from the upper balcony as Sophia walked into the great strategy chamber—her shoulders straight, her gaze distant, her steps measured like each one was a calculation.
Once, he had looked into those eyes and seen warmth.
Now, they were slate and still.
Not angry, he realized.
Not even hurt.
Just cold.
Detached.
And he didn’t know what he feared more—her silence or what it meant.
---
Confrontation
