Along the barricade of the high palace wall, a lone figure stood by the window, staring silently at the serene expanse below.
Evening had fallen, and with it came a biting chill that swept through the air like a ghost. But the looming figure was unaffected—unbothered by the cold or the creeping temperature drop.
Thane Nightshade's face was a storm of fury. Rage lingered in every hardened line, and his clenched fists trembled not from the cold—but from the need to restrain his wrath.
"How dare she question me like I'm some naïve child," he spat, jaw tight as his nails dug into his palms.
Earlier, Queen Charlotte had summoned him—and not just summoned him, but had the audacity to question his decision about Kayden. The sheer gall.
He had attempted to offer her a sliver of respect, weaving a half-truth that Kayden had found the missing slipper. A lie, yes, but one with purpose. Still, the Queen had been unimpressed—refusing to even entertain his reasoning.
