The flames in the hearth had long since burned down to a quiet glow, casting faint orange light across the room's dark wooden walls. Shadows danced slowly along the edges of Elion's study, flickering like whispers from another world. The heavy curtains were drawn, sealing away the dawn that had already crept over the kingdom hours ago.
He hadn't moved from his seat all night.
The large desk before him was cluttered with open books and scattered documents—parchment bearing old vampire treaties, updated security briefings from the outer territories, and a forgotten porcelain cup of blood-tea that had long since gone cold. His hands rested on either side of the desk, palms flat, fingers motionless. He wasn't working anymore.
He was thinking.
Elion's jaw tensed, his expression blank, but his golden eyes were restless. They glowed faintly in the firelight, betraying the turmoil behind them.
She knows.
