A pair of eyes from the crowd remained locked on Enzo from the moment he stepped into the arena.
Barefoot and A sword in his hand.
An aura around him that felt wrong in a way no one could quite explain.
The arena was packed to the brim, every seat taken, every standing space occupied by nobles, soldiers, servants, and commoners who had all rushed there at dawn to witness the duel between the royal brothers.
For a brief moment after Enzo's arrival, the entire place had gone silent beneath the suffocating pressure of his presence. But people were people, and fear never held their tongues for long. Soon the chattering began again, though it was lower now, sharper, tinged with unease.
Enzo stood on foot at the center of the arena, his sword loose in his hand, his red eyes fixed solely on Adrian.
His brother, unlike him, was mounted on horseback.
That alone was enough to set the crowd whispering.
Most saw it as a disadvantage.
