The King did not attack that night. That was the part that made everything harder. An attack could be blocked, countered, answered, but the King lay in his bed and smiled and spoke in the careful voice of a man who had decided that patience was the sharpest weapon left to him, and there was nothing to block or counter because nothing had landed yet.
Alaric had taken the room next to his father's, close enough to hear everything and far enough to make the point that he was not asking permission. Silas stayed with him, and Sean and Nick took positions at both ends of the corridor without being told to. Morning came quietly.
