Julian adjusted the heavy gold band resting against his fair hair, the metal cold and unyielding against his brow. His gaze narrowed, sharp and green, as it fixed upon the iron gates of the inner courtyard. They were shut fast. Heavy chains wound through the handles like rusted serpents, securing them tight.
"What is the meaning of this?" Julian demanded.
One of the guards shifted, eyes downcast. "We received direct orders to bar them, Your Majesty."
A sudden, sharp prickle of unease needled beneath his skin, cold as winter rain.
Orders? Julian's jaw tightened, a hard knot forming at his temple. Barred? Had the Queen commanded this? And how had a decree been passed within his own walls without a single report reaching him? He was the King, yet the silence of his ministers now felt like a coordinated withdrawal.
