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The dawn had not yet fully broken.
A gray light lay over the city, a cold wind passed between the rooftops. This time — the time when the city is most truthful.
No merchants shout.
No soldiers give orders.
No politics appears.
Only the real city remains.
Zaber walked slowly down a narrow street.
The wound on his shoulder still hurt, but he paid no attention to it. Pain was not new to him.
He was thinking of something else.
Aurora.
The palace.
And the sword.
He stopped and looked at the sky.
The sun had not yet risen, but the sky was turning white.
— I have to go back there.
This was not a decision.
This was an obligation.
In Aurora's palace there were two things.
The first — his sword.
The second — his role.
If he stayed in the cabin again, questions would arise.
Aurora is not a fool.
Zaber took a slow breath.
— Once suspicion begins, the game ends.
That is why he had to return.
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The road to the palace
