Night lay gently over Azaradan, but peace did not come with it.
Outside the crown prince's chambers, the warriors of the kingdom stood assembled in rows, their armor catching the light of the great fire bowls burning on either side of the stairway. The flames hissed and shifted in the dark, throwing gold across steel, stone, and solemn faces.
At their head stood Kro.
As captain, her place was always in front. Her posture was perfect, her hands steady at her sides, her face composed in the way a leader's face had to be. Yet beneath that calm, her heart would not settle.
She had not seen Buk in days.
Not truly.
Not alone. Not the way she wanted to. Not the way he needed.
It hurt her more than she would ever admit aloud.
