The Royal Trophy Room was a mausoleum of violence wrapped in velvet.
Walls lined with ancient swords, stag heads with glassy eyes, and banners from conquered kingdoms absorbed the sound of Kaia's footsteps as she slipped inside. The air was cool, smelling of steel polish and old leather. It was a room built for men who took what they wanted.
In the center of the room, illuminated by a single, flickering sconce, stood Aeron.
He wasn't looking at the door. He was standing in front of a suit of black armor, his hand resting on the hilt of a massive broadsword mounted on the wall. He had discarded his coat. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the cuffs, rolled up to reveal the corded muscle of his forearms.
He looked lethal.
Kaia closed the heavy oak door. The latch clicked—a sound of finality.
"Caspian says this room is soundproof," Kaia said, her voice sounding small in the vast space. "I hope he tested that theory."
Aeron turned slowly.
