Sebastian had conquered kingdoms.
He had broken armies.
He had negotiated treaties that men twice his age had failed to untangle.
And yet—
He could not find his fiancée inside his own palace.
He stood at the top of the grand staircase, arms folded behind his back, expression carved from stone. Servants moved below him like anxious birds, very aware that the air had shifted from calm to dangerously controlled.
"Where," he asked calmly, "is Lady Aliena?"
The calm was worse than anger.
A maid nearly dropped the tray she was carrying.
"She was in the east corridor earlier, Your Majesty."
"Earlier," Sebastian repeated.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
He inhaled slowly through his nose.
The palace was large. Absurdly large. He knew that. He had approved the expansions himself. But in this moment, the endless corridors felt like a personal offense.
He descended the stairs with long, deliberate strides.
Servants parted like curtains before him.
