Izan stood before a mirror, fastening the final clasp on his dark robes, his mind focused on the night ahead. His clandestine visits to the Velvet Moon Pavilion had become a dangerous habit, one that threatened to unravel the fragile web of lies he had spun.
But Elian was worth the risk. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about him, the soft glances they exchanged, the unspoken words simmering beneath the surface.
Just as Izan adjusted his collar, the door creaked open. Dillion strode in, his face taut with an urgency Izan knew all too well. Without preamble, Dillion bowed slightly before delivering the words that made Izan's heart skip a beat.
"Your Highness, we've received a new report regarding the last daughter of the Montclairs."
Izan's hands froze mid-motion, his pulse quickening at the mention of the name. The Montclairs. The name alone stirred a myriad of emotions, guilt, curiosity, and a desire to help his father right his past wrong.
