The morning after the courtyard incident arrived with an uneasy stillness that clung to the palace like mist over cold water.
Valen had not slept well, her thoughts had tangled themselves into restless knots but she had been summoned.
Kaelvryn stood near the tall windows overlooking the inner gardens, dressed not in ceremonial robes but in dark, fitted attire suited for work rather than display.
The light from the early sun carved sharp lines across his features, illuminating the faint bruising along his cheek from his fight with Lucas. He had not bothered to conceal it.
"You sent for me, Your Majesty," Valen said evenly, bowing with controlled precision.
He did not turn immediately, there was no trace of last night's jealousy in his tone. When he finally faced her, his expression had hardened into something she recognized well.
Suspicion.
"Close the door," he said quietly.
