Alderon's POV
I knew something was wrong the moment I heard Elowen had sent for Maria.
She had no reason to. No excuse that held weight. Maria belonged to Seraphine's wing—her duties clear, her place defined. Elowen had her own attendants, her own circle of control. She never borrowed what wasn't hers unless she intended to bend it—or break it.
Still, even with that knowledge burning at the back of my mind, I hadn't imagined this.
Not this.
I was halfway down the eastern corridor when I heard raised voices ahead—sharp, panicked, wrong. Then boots. Too many of them. Guards moving fast.
My chest tightened.
I turned the corner and saw her.
Maria.
Her arms were locked in the guards' grips, her back straight despite it, her face pale but composed in that infuriatingly quiet way she had when the world tried to crush her. She wasn't crying. She wasn't begging.
That alone told me everything.
"What is this?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the corridor.
