After Ismael's family had been escorted to the modest manor prepared for them just outside the palace walls, Alaric entered the throne room where King Aragon awaited. The chamber was lit with the warm glow of torches set into gilded sconces, shadows flickering against tall stone pillars that bore the banners of Estalis.
"It is confirmed," Alaric said, his voice level, though a sharp undercurrent lingered beneath his calm tone. "Turik, the Princess of Zura, Mira, and Turik's most trusted men departed two days before we entered the capital."
Aragon's lips curled with disdain. "That cripple is as slippery as an eel, even now. His spies are keen, his timing impeccable. He fled early—bought himself the luxury of escape."
