Rowan's voice broke the tense silence, each word falling like shards of glass.
"You think Darius Vale was merely a soldier? A loyal general of the crown? No, Lucien. He was the one who orchestrated half the lies that ruined you."
Lucien's eyes narrowed, every line of his face sharp with suspicion. "Careful, Rowan. You speak as if you've forgotten your place."
But Rowan didn't flinch. Instead, he stepped closer, his jaw set. "I remember my place better than you ever did. Do you even know why I came to your side all those years ago? Why I...of all people chose exile with you instead of comfort under Alden's wing?"
Lucien's hand twitched at his side, but he didn't reach for his sword. Not yet. "Spit it out."
Rowan's gaze flicked briefly to Liora. His eyes softened, then hardened again as though weighing whether she deserved the truth. At last, he said,
