By dawn, the study was a wreck of splintered wood and gouged stone, but the real damage was in the eyes of the people I passed. The Moon had retreated into a dull, pulsing headache behind my eyes. Some Blue Moon wolfs remained at the border waiting for me.
I hadn't slept. I couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the phantom weight of a crown, pressing down on me.
As I walked toward the kitchens, the silence was hard to miss. Usually, the morning in the Ridge was a chaotic mess of clashing training swords and shouting scouts. Today, it felt as if everyone was holding their breath.
A young servant girl carrying a tray of water saw me and stopped. She didn't just nod; she dropped into a deep, trembling bow, her forehead nearly touching the cold floor. The tray rattled in her hands.
"Rise," I said, my voice sounding echoing in the quiet hall. "You're going to spill that."
