Aiden's patience was unshakable. He had played the long game many times before. His rise in the previous world had been slow and methodical, and this would be no different. Rushing in with brute force was beneath him now. This was about control—about slipping into the power structures of this kingdom so seamlessly that, when he did rise, no one would see it coming until it was too late.
The sound of soft footsteps reached his ears. Aiden's gaze flicked toward the far end of the plaza, where a figure emerged from the mist. She was dressed simply, though the elegance of her bearing could not be hidden. Princess Lirael Augustus Evaroria, heir to a dying throne, walked quietly toward the statue, her long, silver hair catching the moonlight like strands of silk. Her face was veiled, in the same fashion as the celestial statue, but even from a distance, Aiden could sense the sadness and helpless in her aura.
