FINN’S DECISION The palace felt colder than usual today. It wasn't the weather; the sun was shining bright through the high windows. It was the silence. Everyone was walking on eggshells, whispering in corners. The King’s health was the only thing anyone talked about, but no one said anything of substance.

I walked down the long corridor toward the royal infirmary. My boots made a dull thud against the stone floor. I hated this place. It smelled like vinegar, dried herbs, and death.

"Finn," ...