The return to the capital was extremely monotonous. The royal ship glided to the castle's dock with the same silent smoothness with which it had departed.
The difference, however, was visible. A few weeks earlier, Cairen had disembarked as a talented hostage and a prisoner to the princess.
Now, his feet touched the polished stone with firmness and far less concern, happy to return after a successful hunt.
The air of the castle, once oppressive in its immovable wealth and power, now, seen from above with his spiritual sense, no longer seemed like an inescapable fortress as before.
Cairen inhaled deeply, missing the wet scent, the moss, and the blood of the misty mountain range. Now, all he smelled was the incense lingering in the castle.
Ling disembarked beside him. She, too, was different. Not a single strand of hair was out of place, and the torn, bloodstained clothes had been replaced by clean, immaculate garments.
