He had done it.
He had betrayed one of his closest friends for the sake of ambition.
Alpheo's head turned slowly, his gaze dragging across the hall where the great gathering of envoys and three princes bore witness to the signing of a peace that would end a war lasting more than a decade.
It should have been a triumph. It should have been his greatest moment.So why did it felt as one of his greatest failure?
His eyes found Sorza and Zayneth among the crowd,both staring with thinly veiled hate, their brows drawn tight. They probably thought they had lost, but Alpheo did not feel any sense of triumph.
He had achieved all he set out to do. Every objective, every gamble, every sacrifice, it had brought him here. He had, by every measure of statecraft, won. And yet… what was he now? A prince victorious? Or a man who had gutted his own heart to keep the ruin from his door?
