The Isolated King

My routine in the Citadel was as rigid as the King’s. Up at dawn, a brief, silent sparring session with one of the guards (never Finn, never Rhys), hours of strategic work, and then, the worst part: the evening meals in the main dining hall. I had to sit there, crowned by the heavy silver chain, surrounded by the nobles who hated me.

But the routine also gave me clarity. It gave me time to watch Demetrius.

After the terrible incident in the War Room, Demetrius had been ...