The carriage ride back was silent. Alaric did not let go of Julian's hand the entire time, his grip firm and steady.
Julian didn't speak; he just leaned back and listened to the pulse in the Duke's palm, letting the continuous beat of his heart ground him.
The palace walls finally faded into the distance, replaced by the white-clad streets of the Capital. It seemed like… even the trees were mourning the late Empress.
When they finally arrived at the manor, the heavy doors swung open. For the first time in weeks, Julian stepped into a space that didn't feel like a cage. The entrance hall was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet—the kind that belonged to a home waiting for its people to return.
Julian went up to his room first. He needed to see if it was true. What the system told him.
