Rosalinda kept her distance, anger simmering beneath her skin like embers refusing to die. At dawn, Seraphine guided her and Azrakar to the palace, where the king himself did not bother to appear. Instead, his right hand greeted them with hollow courtesy. Azrakar’s jaw tightened—he saw the absence as deliberate disrespect—but no one dared voice it.

Their chambers were assigned swiftly, and the king’s envoy announced doubled guards outside Rosalinda’s door. For her safety, he claimed. ...