Adrian did not respond immediately.
He only stared at his brother from where he lay on the blood-stained arena floor, his chest rising and falling heavily, pride and fury brewing so violently inside him that for a moment it felt harder to breathe than it did to endure the pain. He turned his head to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood, the dark red staining the sand beneath him.
Then his eyes lifted to his father. Just for a second.
But that second was enough.
He saw the calculation in King Calister's eyes. He saw the cold patience there, the deliberate stillness, the complete lack of urgency to stop the duel. There was no panic in his father's face, no alarm at seeing one son broken and the other standing over him with murder in his eyes. There was only watchfulness, like a king waiting for a result he had long expected.
And Adrian understood.His father had chosen.
Maybe not with words, maybe not openly, but he had chosen all the same.
