Valen's wound had sealed cleanly, leaving only a faint tightness beneath her ribs whenever she stretched too far or moved too sharply. It was a small price, one she accepted without complaint. Pain, after all, was merely another language the body spoke, and Valen had grown fluent in it long ago.
What unsettled her was not the healing but the distance.
Servants who once delivered reports now offered vague smiles. Guards who normally sought her instruction redirected their questions elsewhere.
Even the daily deployment schedules, documents she had reviewed countless times seemed suddenly beyond her reach.
"My lord… your name has been removed from the festival postings."
Valen stared at him.
"Removed?"
"Yes, my lord. Orders from above."
"Above," she repeated flatly. "Meaning the King."
The officer swallowed.
"I believe so."
Valen dismissed him with a nod that concealed the irritation rising steadily within her chest.
