For a second, the entire world felt like it stopped spinning.
Kian—cold, controlled, impossibly proud Kian—bowed.
It wasn't dramatic. He didn't drop to his knees or do anything remotely theatrical. He simply lowered his head, just slightly, like a ruler acknowledging a rival king.
And that was enough to shake the ground.
Because if he bowed… what the hell were the rest of them supposed to do?
It was like watching a volcano curtsy. Like seeing lightning apologize for striking.
No one moved at first. Not even a breath passed. And then—one by one—they followed.
Guards who bled for the palace. Warriors who'd fought to their last tooth and nail. The men who would never lower their heads unless their throats were half-slit already. They all bent their spines, a little stiff, a little awkward, unsure if they were making the right choice—but knowing deep in their gut, this was a survival moment.
