The torches along the corridors burned low, casting amber light that softened stone edges and turned shadows into long, wavering shapes.
Valen welcomed the quiet, she stood alone in one of the smaller western courtyards reserved for the royal guard, the moon high above, pale and watchful.
Her hands rested behind her back in formal posture, though no one was present to demand it.
She had not seen Kaelvryn since leaving his chamber. When summoned to routine security discussions, she sent another guard in her place with the excuse of perimeter inspection.
The sound of uneven footsteps broke her concentration, Valen's eyes shifted toward the arched entrance leading into the courtyard.
Lucas emerged from shadow. At first glance, he looked as composed as always, shoulders straight, dark attire immaculate. But as he stepped into fuller torchlight, the subtle sway in his stance and the faint flush along his cheekbones betrayed him.
He was drunk.
