The morning air always carried the faint, bitter scent of the surrounding pine courtyards, but today it felt heavier, almost stagnant. Philia walked with a slow pace, his fingers lightly curling over the edge of his soft linen sleeves. Beside him, Valen kept a steady, silent rhythm, his boots making barely a sound against the floor.
But right now, Philia's mind was entirely stuck in the early hours of the dawn.
The sound of the chamber door clicking closed kept replaying in his head. It had happened before dawn, when everyone should've still been in bed.
Yerel had slipped out of bed far earlier than anyone should've been awake, moving as quietly as he could. Even so, there was a tension in every step he took, one he couldn't quite hide. Philia had feigned sleep, watching through half-closed eyes as the Crown Prince hurriedly fastened his tunic, the dark circles under Yerel's eyes deeper than they had been all week.
