The palace corridors were alive with the usual morning rhythm. Servants hurried past with trays and linens, guards exchanged posts, and the sunlight spilling through tall windows stretched golden across the stone floors. The hum of activity wrapped the halls, but Lucian walked as though the world belonged to him alone. His robe hung neatly, his hair still damp from the bath, and his expression carried the calm confidence of a man who had already decided how this day would unfold.
He had just left the council chamber where Alaric had bristled under his words. The Crown Prince's composure had cracked for the briefest second, and Lucian was still savoring it. A single crack was all he needed to start prying the walls apart. But Alaric wasn't the only one worth playing with.
