The palace did not return to normal.
It couldn't.
Not after his arrival.
Every corridor carried tension now. Conversations were shorter. Steps were quieter. Even the guards—men who feared nothing—stood straighter than before.
Because the King wasn't just present.
He was watching.
Devon didn't leave the hall immediately.
Neither did his father.
They stood facing each other, the space between them tight with something deeper than simple authority.
"You didn't greet me properly," the King said.
His tone wasn't loud.
But it didn't need to be.
Devon's expression didn't change.
"I'm not a child anymore."
A pause.
Then—
"You're still my son."
"And you're still gone most of the time."
That landed.
A few of the guards behind the King shifted slightly.
The King's gaze sharpened.
"Careful."
Devon stepped forward.
"Or what?"
Silence.
The air tightened.
This wasn't just tension anymore.
This was a challenge.
But before it could go further—
