The night had descended upon the palace like a slow, heavy curtain.
In the sky, Ruya and Siamon were half-visible, their cold light striking the marble columns and spreading like flowing white water. The palace walls were silent. Candles burned in a low flame. Thick carpets swallowed the sound of footsteps. The silk curtains at the windows trembled faintly even in the windless night, giving a certain pressure to the air inside.
But this silence was not peace.
Here, every sound was heard. Every step was measured. Every breath was evaluated.
Zaber leaned against the balcony railing, observing the courtyard.
Below, the inner courtyard was illuminated. The guards continued their patrol rotation. The rhythm of their steps was different from usual.
Last night, Zaber had inspected the entire house structure. Every wing. Every corridor. Every turn.
He was not an ordinary guest. He was one of those who could not live without knowing the place where he lived.
He had measured:
