In the palace the activities are muted. Servants hurry about, their movements brisk and quiet, as though trying not to disturb the tension simmering among the royal family.In the grand dining hall, former King , Elias sits at the head of the long table, his imposing figure a reminder of the authority he commands.Arthur enters, his steps slower than usual, his face set in a mask of calm that betrays the storm within. He bows slightly to his father before taking his seat.“Arthur,” Elias says without lifting his eyes from his plate. His voice carries a tone of quiet reproach.“Father,” Arthur replies, his voice steady but lacking its usual conviction.The silence stretches between them, a heavy weight neither seems willing to lift. Arthur’s thoughts drift, unbidden, to Madin. He spent the night tossing and turning, haunted by memories of the one he drove away.No matter how hard he tries to focus on his duties, the ache of Madin’s absence claws at him, relentless and unforgiving.“You
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