"Father, Mother," Leon said, rising from his seat, pushing the chair gently behind him as if the very air had grown heavy around him. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be heading back to my chamber for a while."
Queen Selene looked up, her hand frozen mid-air, fingers still curled around the handle of her goblet. "So soon? Leon, you barely touched your food."
"I'll eat later," he replied quickly, voice calm but distant, his tone that polite mixture of respect and urgency that always made her heart ache.
King Lucian lifted his gaze slowly. His eyes were the same piercing silver as his son's — cold, unreadable when he wanted them to be, but burning with quiet power. "Go on, then. We'll talk later." His tone mild.
Leon gave a small bow, the faintest shadow of a son's smile to his mother, and turned. As the heavy double doors shut behind him, the gentle echo of his footsteps faded into the quiet hum of morning.
