"How is our esteemed Crown Prince faring these days?"
Zarius's voice was a dry rasp, barely more than the sound of dead leaves skittering across stone. He stood by the tall, arched window of his chamber, his hand gripping the cold stone of the sill until his knuckles turned a ghostly white. Outside, the Northern gardens looked like a patchwork of bruised greys and browns, a fitting reflection of the man who ruled over them.
His eyes were fixed on a small, moving speck of color below. Cherion.
The Omega was wandering the garden paths with his new attendant trailing behind him like a persistent shadow. From this height, Cherion looked fragile, almost dainty, but there was a certain… bounce to his step that felt entirely out of place in the grim atmosphere of Valtrane.
Suddenly, as if sensing the weight of a gaze, Cherion stopped. He tilted his head back, his eyes searching the castle walls until they locked onto Zarius's window.
