Lucian couldn't stop thinking about what the servants just said.
More specifically, the way they said it.
He sat beside the open window of his chambers long after returning from his walk, absently turning a page in the book resting on his lap while cold morning air drifted through the curtains.
Somewhere outside, servants moved through the palace gardens. Knights changed shifts near the western courtyard. A bell echoed faintly from one of the distant towers.
Everything looked painfully normal as if nothing happened, as if the rumour didn't have any effect on the palace.
Because the more Lucian thought about Reniel's death, the less sense any of it made.
A rushed burial.
The phrase had followed him since morning like a splinter buried beneath his skin.
At first, he tried to dismiss it. Palace servants exaggerated rumors constantly. Half the people working here survived entirely on gossip and emotional instability.
