The cold silence that followed the Court’s dissolution did not last.
The castle was no longer a place of ceremony — it was a fortress preparing for war.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the spires of the Nightshade Palace, King Paul convened with his personal guards — elite warriors bound by oath and blood to protect the throne, no matter the cost.
“Lock down the west wing,” he ordered, voice a sharp blade through the cool night air. “No one in or out without my explicit command. Double the watch on the dungeons. I want two guards outside each cell, and three rotating patrols within the prison floor at all times.”
He paused, eyes hard.
“And if anyone — anyone — so much as utters the name Peter near the prison... I want a full report on my desk within mi
