A flicker of warmth passed through Lara's eyes.
Carefree Aramis—who laughed too easily for a prince, who never hesitated to stand between danger and those he chose to protect.
The one who had shielded her when she was still a nobody in borrowed armor… a woman disguised as a soldier, to deliver a message to the heart of the battlefield.
Back then, he risked his life for her.
Her gaze shifted upward. Higher.
As if the sculptor intended to remind anyone who looked—
Who stood above the rest.
King Alderan of Northem. Alaric's younger brother.
His features were colder. Sharper. A king forged not by inheritance, but by survival.
And beside him—
Reuben.
Once a crown prince. Once a schemer.
A man who had played the game of power—and been devoured by it.
Yet he rose again, stronger and wiser. No longer chasing the throne, but standing beside it.
With Alderan—and Alaric behind them—he helped carve an era where Northem no longer bled for its future.
