Julius's POV
I heard footsteps approaching my cell.
Not the heavy, careless stomp of a guard who hated his job. Not the lazy shuffle of someone dragging themselves through another dull shift. These were soft. Measured. And deliberate. Each step placed with quiet authority, like the stones themselves would apologize for making a sound.
I didn't need to look up.
I had memorized every pattern of footsteps that echoed through this dungeon. When you've been locked in a stone box for years, you either lose your mind… or you start cataloguing things like you're building an encyclopedia of misery. I knew who limped. Who dragged their heel. Who wore armor too big for them. Who reeked of cheap liquor before they even rounded the corner.
This one?
Precise. Elegant. And controlled.
It was my mother.
The Queen of Milham.
The woman who ruled an entire kingdom… and couldn't seem to rule her own son.
