The corridor was empty when Aiden left Leonidus behind.
His footsteps echoed too loudly in the hush, each one a reminder that the palace slept uneasily tonight. Torchlight flickered across ancient tapestries—dragons coiled around emperors long dead, their eyes seeming to follow him as he passed.
For the first time in weeks, the adrenaline ebbed.
What remained was something quieter. Heavier.
Regret.
Not for the duke. Not for the demon burned to ash. Not even for the empire trembling in the aftermath.
For Leonidus.
Aiden paused at a narrow window overlooking the inner courtyard. Frost silvered the stone. Below, a single lantern burned beside the stables, tended by a boy too young to understand what had changed tonight.
