"Kings may wear crowns, but guilt strips them bare. Sometimes the strongest roar is the whisper of remorse."
The corridors of the Northern Palace seemed longer tonight. Too long. Every step I took away from the Eastern Chambers echoed like a betrayal, though I could not quite tell if I was betraying my sister by leaving her so soon, or myself for walking toward the man who had broken me and bound me all at once. The royal guards flanked me on either side, silent shadows in polished armor. Their presence felt less like protection and more like a cage. But then again, hadn't I been living in cages all my life? Some of iron, some of expectation, and one carved out of raw, aching bond.
When we reached Alaric's chamber doors, the guards glanced at me, waiting for a signal. My throat tightened. My wolf, Black, rumbled deep inside, urging me forward. Go. He is waiting.
