"Kaelen," Alaric called out, his voice echoing off the courtyard walls.
The knight stepped forward, clad in his usual silver plate, his expression as unreadable as ever, and he bowed.
"Your Grace?"
"You are to stay within earshot of Julian at all times until he reaches the study doors," Alaric commanded, his hand still lingering on Julian's shoulder, a final, physical anchor. "Protect him, no matter what you have to do."
Kaelen bowed deeply. "On my honor, Your Grace."
The words, 'Protect him, no matter what you have to do,' were an indication that even if it was the Emperor, if it looked like Julian was in danger, he had to protect him, prioritise his safety, and not care what happens next.
After all, the only danger in the palace known to them was the Emperor.
Julian turned to Alaric, seeing the storm of unease still swirling in those blue eyes. He reached up, his fingers briefly grazing the Duke's jaw—a small, private gesture that said more than any vow could.
