The silence in the dining hall after the meal concluded was louder than the prince's ramblings had been. Julian rose from his seat, bowing with a lazy, practiced grace that had entirely lost its frantic edge, and walked out of the room. He didn't look back at the corners where the knights stood. He didn't need to; he had taken up all the space that mattered.
As the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind the prince, the atmosphere in the room instantly shifted from suffocating stillness to a tense, violent pressure.
Ken stepped out of the shadows first. His heavy leather boots slammed against the marble with a deliberate, aggressive force, abandoning all the stealth he had practiced since childhood. He came to a halt right at the edge of the walnut table, towering over Elara's seated figure. His dark hair fell wildly over his forehead, and his chest rose and fell with a jagged, dangerous heat.
