[Cassius Devereux's POV—Imperial Palace of Eloria—Throne Room]
The council droned on.
Trade routes. Salt exports. Borders. Endless words.
I sat on the imperial throne—spine straight, fingers resting against carved obsidian armrests—yet my thoughts were not on the hall.
They were five days away.
On a battlefield.
On my daughter.
Theon cleared his throat, continuing his report as if the fate of the continent depended on it:
"If the Princess secures Meren, Your Majesty, Eloria will become the largest exporter of salt. Their mines are deep and untouched—"
Regis interrupted, nodding eagerly. "And their coasts are rich, Your Majesty. Fish, medicinal algae, rare pearls—Meren's seas could expand our economy tenfold."
I didn't answer.
Not immediately. My gaze drifted to Regis—old friend, loyal retainer, cautious as ever. After he learned that our children had broken their engagement… he didn't rage, didn't curse, and didn't try to defend his son.
