The air in Kaelen’s chamber was cold when he returned that night. The moonlight spilled across the marble floor, throwing long shadows that crept toward the untouched tray of food on the table. He stopped when he saw it, the bowl of soup had long gone cold, the bread hardened at the edges.

He didn’t speak at first. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders was clear. A low hum of irritation rolled through his chest.

The head maid stepped forward, trembling slightly. ...