Later that morning, Aurelia made her way toward the council chambers.
The corridors of the palace were quieter than usual, the gentle echo of her footsteps following her as she walked with Gwen trailing a respectful distance behind.
Her mind, however, was far from calm.
For weeks now, she and the king had avoided one another.
The last real conversation they had shared was that morning after breakfast—the one where Valerian had spoken with brutal honesty about his feelings. Or rather, the lack of them.
He had told her clearly that he did not love her. That he never would.
Since that day, neither of them had made any effort to seek the other out.
Aurelia had accepted it with grace. At least outwardly.
Yet now, as she walked toward the council chambers hoping to find him, she felt a faint uneasiness curling in her chest.
Not because she wished to see him for herself.
No.
