Elias walked through it all.
Through the thick stone walls of the royal wing, the sound of the mobilization could be heard.
Boots hammered against marble; the clatter of plate armor being hauled from the armory echoed upwards.
The silver-and-emerald diadem felt heavy on his brow, a constant reminder of the "Co-Sovereign" title he had held for less than six hours. He could feel the eyes of the guards following him—no longer looking at an Asset to be managed, but at a source of power to be protected.
He couldn't breathe in the war room. The smell of maps suddenly became too suffocating for him.
Without a word to the trailing escort, Elias turned down a service corridor, slipped through a side door, and vanished into the inner gardens.
He didn't stop until he reached the Greenhouse he'd quietly been grooming for years—the one place in the capital that didn't feel like a fortress.
