The silence after Cassian's departure was a physical thing, thick with the dust of shattered certainties and the cold scent of political ozone. The vast, vaulted hall felt less like a place of ceremony and more like a tomb for a simpler age. Lucian stood staring at the doors his brother had lurched through, his shoulders squared under an invisible, immense weight.
He did not move for a long minute. Then, with a quiet sigh that seemed to deflate him from prince to a weary, young man, he turned. His gaze swept over the remaining few—the royal physician wringing his hands, a clerk frozen with a stylus poised over a wax tablet, the stone-faced guards at the doors, Kaelen's silent watchfulness, and finally, me.
"Physician," Lucian's voice was hoarse but firm. "Return to the infirmary. Double the guard on my brother's chambers. His physical health is your only concern. His… pronouncements… are no longer your burden."
