The banquet's noise had long faded, replaced by the softer hum of ether lines running through the walls of his private wing. Privacy had been forced on him at first, not understanding that it was his parents' way of giving him space once his temper began to draw too much attention. Over time, Arik had made it his own and was glad that he could have his own entire wing.
He sat now on the floor of his quarters, back propped against the low frame of a couch, golden eyes half-lidded in concentration. Warm black hair fell untamed across his brow as he turned the silver ward over in his hand, the one thing in the palace he'd never shown to anyone.
A year ago, curiosity had gotten the better of him. He had opened it.
