The summons had come without warning.
"Bring the boy Mikael to Egeus immediately."
Thirteen-year-old Sebastian's stomach churned. He knew the corridors of the palace too well—every polished floor, every echoing step, every corner where punishment might await. But he had never been called to Egeus, not since the former king had retired.
The door to the study was massive. Polished oak, brass fittings gleaming. Sebastian's small hands trembled as he grasped the handle. He swallowed. A faint memory of his stepfamily's cruel hands flashing across his arms made him flinch.
Inside, the room was enormous, sunlit, grand—befitting a man who had once ruled an entire kingdom. High windows let golden light spill onto tapestries of battles won and kings past. And at the far end, seated in a high-backed chair that still exuded authority, was Egeus.
He was no longer king. But the weight of him—his presence, his aura—was enough to make the boy's knees go weak.
