The palace never truly stopped speaking.
Even when the courtyards emptied and the nobles dispersed into their private chambers, even when the echoes of formal greetings faded into silk corridors and closing doors, it still lingered in the air—quiet conversations half-finished, glances still exchanged, judgments still forming.
And today, it lingered differently.
Because today, something foreign had stepped into it and smiled as though it belonged.
Duke Alexander had been escorted away under careful guidance.
Not because he was unwelcome.
But because he was too welcomed too quickly.
That, in itself, was dangerous.
The attendants led him through the inner corridors of the palace with practiced composure, their footsteps echoing softly against polished stone floors.
Alexander walked without resistance.
Without curiosity.
Without hesitation.
He observed everything as he moved—not with the excitement of a guest, but with the patience of someone cataloguing unfamiliar terrain.
