"Bastard." Stepping out of the throne room, Tristan cursed under his breath. A few council members looked at him, hearing his words, but brushed them off, understanding what Elias was really wishing to do and the reason for Tristan's anger. Walking off, Tristan didn't go straight to his room, but rather walked around the palace halls, wishing to calm himself down. The thought of being thrown into the war didn't scare him as much as leaving the palace itself.
Even if he hated the palace, it had become his safety net for his entire life. To be thrown out and into one of the most contested forts in Veston was too much of a leap. "Tristan," Annabell called out in worry, and Tristan sighed, petting the dove on his shoulder, her soft feathers their own form of relaxation.
