The midday light spilled across the palace courtyards, turning the white marble floors into a blinding mirror. Servants moved quickly between the shaded archways, carrying scrolls, water pitchers, trays of fruit — the quiet rhythm of palace life. But in the center of the inner courtyard, the rhythm was breaking.
Noah stood at the base of the wide stairs, his hands clasped behind his back, watching Ignareth approach from the opposite archway.
The two locked eyes long before they were close enough to speak.
Kaerth wasn't here — deliberately, Noah suspected. This was no accident.
"I heard you took Kaerth to the balcony last night," Noah said evenly, when Ignareth stopped a few paces away.
Ignareth's expression was unreadable, but his tone held an edge of amusement. "You make it sound like a crime."
"Maybe it is," Noah replied, voice just as calm. "Depending on what you said to him."
Ignareth stepped closer, lowering his voice. "What I said… is between him and me."
