The grand doors of the ballroom closed behind Riven with a muffled thud, cutting him off from the roaring argument that erupted inside. He was oblivious to Sahira's provocation and everything that happened behind those doors.
Riven walked aimlessly at first, his steps hollow, the humiliation still echoing in his ears. He had played that song with his heart — each note meant as homage, as love for the kingdom he had come to call home. And yet, the King, the man he had devoted himself to, had told him to leave. He was not looking for praise, he just wanted some dignity.
He might be broken, but he had some pride, some self-respect. Lately, he felt like he had none left. He chipped away too much of it.
His throat tightened. His black wolf ears flattened against his hair, a silent sign of distress. He had been dismissed in public before, but not by him. Never by him. But that was also because he was never allowed to go out freely. The King was afraid of people finding out.
