The room was quiet again, but not at peace.
Ian sat on the edge of the bed, gaze fixed on the shard barely glowing beside him. Eli stood by the open window, letting the early light of dawn spill across his shoulders, projecting golden shadows onto the marble floor.
He hadn't spoken in a while.
Then, finally, Eli broke the silence.
"I suspected it."
Ian didn't look up.
"Suspected what?" he asked flatly.
"That you were a Sovereign."
Ian turned his head.
Eli met his gaze now—no longer the light banter between warriors or allies. This was the kind of silence that preceded things like war declarations.
Truths too heavy for breath.
"I suspected it from the moment I first saw you survive in Blackblood Forest," Eli said. "But I buried the thought. Chose not to speak it aloud."
"Why?" Ian asked.
