ELIAS BLACKTHORNE POV
The Grand Hall was finally quiet. The last flickering candle had been extinguished, the immense, tiered cake was safely in the kitchens, and the three hundred guests, the leaders, and allies of the Faction, had departed, leaving behind only the ghost scent of champagne and expensive perfume.
It was nearly dawn, and I leaned against the cool stone of the archway leading into our private wing, watching the King oversee the final deployment of the night guard. Even exhausted and dressed in a rumpled ceremonial tunic, Alaric Vayne commanded attention. He spoke quietly, his voice a low, steady rumble, giving thanks and ensuring all patrols were doubled despite the celebration. He was not just a King; he was the shepherd of our entire world, and the gravity of that responsibility never truly left him, even at two in the morning.
