Later that day, the air in the palace corridors hung heavy as I trailed a few paces behind Alexander. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a stark contrast to the measured cadence of his footsteps. Anxiety gnawed at me, urging me to turn back, to retreat to the haven of my chambers. But a morbid curiosity, a yearning to understand the unspoken tension between the brothers, propelled me forward.
Rounding a corner, I spotted Damian leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed and a scowl etched on his face. As Alexander approached, the air crackled with electricity. Their greeting was curt, devoid of the usual warmth shared between siblings. I instinctively ducked behind a tapestry, my breath catching in my throat as I strained to hear their hushed conversation.
"What do you think you're doing, Alexander?" Damian's voice was clipped, devoid of its usual easygoing humor.
