The corridors of the royal wing were suffocatingly quiet, a stark contrast to the absolute bedlam that had gripped the palace last night.
Flio and Elios walked side by side. Outside, they maintained the disciplined posture expected of Duke Zarius's closest subordinates. Inside, however, the boiling tension was finally starting to crack their carefully constructed composure.
Elios was the first to break the silence, his voice a low, fierce hiss that barely carried past Flio's shoulder.
"I still can't believe the absolute nerve of these capital nobles," Elios muttered, his fingers twitching instinctively near the hidden hilts of his daggers. He shook his head, a scowl marring his sharp features. "Do you hear what they're whispering out there? The absolute nonsense flying around the banquet halls? They are actually trying to say Lord Cherion is the mastermind behind this entire tragedy. Lord Cherion!"
