The corridors outside my chambers were already awake.
Servants moved quickly along the marble halls with lowered gazes, the air filled with the muted rustle of skirts, the clink of armor, the distant echo of doors opening and closing. Sunlight streamed through the high arched windows, catching on the pale stone and turning everything gold.
Morning court.
Or, more precisely, mourning court.
After court we would still have to pay our respects to the ones who died for the kingdom.
The kingdom celebrated victory, yes. The bells had rung until midnight. Wine had flowed through the barracks like rivers.
But today was not celebration.
Today was reckoning.
War always demanded one.
My steps were measured as we walked. Maribel kept pace at my right, Liora at my left, both half a step behind as protocol dictated. The heels of my shoes clicked sharply against the floor, steady and composed.
Each sound anchored me.
