Twelve hours earlier
--
Before the grand ceremony lit the palace in gold and the scent of blooming roses masked the underlying current of unease that pulsed through the air, Kaius strode with determined steps toward the heavy double doors of his father’s private office.
The guards stationed there nodded silently, allowing him passage without a word, as if they too understood that this meeting was not one meant for public eyes.
Inside, King Markus stood by the tall windows, a glass of deep amber whiskey swirling lazily in his hand, the light catching in his graying hair; his best friend Henry leaned casually against a desk laden with old maps and files, and Alpha Azriel, his uncle and a man known as much for his ruthless cunning as his loyalty to the family, lounged in a leather chair
