The sun was setting, casting long, bruised purple shadows across the private residence of Prince Liam. It was a secluded estate, far from the prying eyes of the main palace, nestled in a quiet forest on the edge of the capital. It was a place where business could be conducted in the dark, away from the court's judgment.
Inside the main hall, the air was cool and tense. The stone floor was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the flickering light of the torches on the walls. Two royal guards stood like statues by the heavy oak door, their faces impassive, their hands resting heavily on the hilts of their swords.
Prince Liam sat in a high-backed chair at the far end of the room. He looked bored. He held a small, sharp dagger in his hand, flipping it idly. The blade caught the torchlight, flashing silver gleams.
Kneeling on the floor in front of him, looking small and insignificant in the vast room, was Carlos.
