That faith had carried Aragon through the blood and the hunger, through betrayal and the endless weight of vengeance. But now that he sat on his father's throne, he found the burden heavier, not lighter.
What was justice, if he failed to honor the man who had given everything for him?
Aragon rose from the throne, moving toward the long windows that overlooked the courtyard. Below, torches flickered as soldiers patrolled the night. The kingdom was his again—yet even in victory, he felt haunted by those who had not lived to see it.
Ismael's children. Would they look upon him as a savior or as a thief who had stolen their father's life for his own survival? What could he offer them—gold, lands, titles—that would ever measure against a father's embrace?
