Winter's Crown was alive with cautious optimism. The arrest of Lord Farrin and the foiling of his allies' plot had sent ripples through the kingdom. The streets were busy once more, and the tension that had gripped the city began to loosen. Yet, Damien knew better than to trust this fleeting peace.
He stood at the edge of the palace balcony, his steel-gray eyes scanning the bustling streets below. From here, the kingdom looked as if it were on the mend, but Damien could feel the cracks beneath the surface.
"Daydreaming again?" Amara's voice cut through the quiet. She stepped onto the balcony, her sharp blue eyes glinting in the sunlight.
"Not exactly," Damien said, his tone quiet.
Amara leaned against the railing, studying him. "You're thinking about the court, aren't you? About who's next?"
