The thick velvet curtains dulled the grand ballroom's roar, swallowing the music and chatter until only a distant hum slipped through.
Out on the balcony, the night air was cool and sharp, carrying the faint, clean scent of the royal gardens below, such a stark contrast to the heavy perfume and heat inside.
Flio and Karson stood far apart, their backs to the glittering glass doors, both quietly staring out over the dark palace grounds. The space between them was wide enough for three men to stand.
Karson leaned his hips back against the railing, his hands resting loosely on the edge. He didn't look at the man beside him, keeping his eyes on the distant treetops swaying faintly under the moonlight.
"It's weird," Karson began softly. "To be able to just stand here like this with you."
Flio didn't move at all, standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes scanning the gardens. He looked every bit the unyielding Northern man he was raised to be. "Why?"
