A kingdom cannot stand divided—neither can two souls bound by fate.
The Weight of the Throne
The halls of the palace were silent, though silence in Verauno had long since ceased to mean peace. It had become the hush of unspoken fears, lingering resentment, and choices too costly to be voiced aloud.
Beyond the palace walls, the kingdom was rebuilding, but inside?
Inside, the fractures between Asher and me ran deep.
I found him in the throne room, standing near the high windows. He wasn’t looking at me. His focus remained on the flickering torches that illuminated the city beyond.
"You called for me," he said, his voice steady, but distant.
I exhaled. "We need to talk."
A faint smirk. "Do we?"
There it was—that familiar shield of sarcasm, as if he could deflect everything between us
