King Kendrick broke the silence first.
"Good," he said. His voice was calm again. "You reacted faster than I expected."
Alex didn't move. The cut on his cheek was still bleeding. The pain grounded him, kept his tactical mind focused despite the adrenaline still flooding his system.
"Was this a test, Your Majesty?"
"It was a measure," Kendrick replied. "Reports say you fought things that should have killed you. I needed to see what kind of survivor you became."
He stepped closer. His presence was heavy but controlled, like standing near a forge that radiated heat without burning. "You don't fight like an Ashford. You fight like someone who learned survival without protection. That tells me more than reports ever could."
Alex kept his breathing steady. Blood dripped from his jaw onto the stone floor, each drop a reminder of how completely outmatched he'd been. "If you wanted proof, you have it."
