Alaric's jaw tightened, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration. "Escaped?"
He looked toward Sir Kaelen, who immediately straightened his posture. The knight looked as though he had aged ten years in a single night, trapped between a runaway boy and a Duke who looked ready to level the city.
Castor's gaze shifted toward Alaric. The boy's eyes traveled over the man's towering frame, his black attire, and the deep, dark tone of his skin that matched Lucius's so perfectly. So this is Lucius's father, Castor thought. He watched the way Alaric held Julian—not like a guard holding a prisoner, but like a man holding his entire world. A flicker of realization crossed Castor's face, and his grin widened.
"I was worried about Julian," Castor chirped, taking a bold step closer. "The whole Spire is acting like the sky is falling. I had to see for myself."
