The quiet following Vale's execution was fragile, like the surface of a still lake that could ripple with the faintest breeze. Winter's Crown tried to return to its daily routines, but the shadow of rebellion lingered, and the citizens watched the court with wary eyes.
Damien stood in the palace courtyard, his steel-gray eyes scanning the bustling activity around him. Soldiers moved in orderly lines, securing key positions throughout the city. Merchants whispered rumors to one another, their faces pale. Even the palace staff carried out their duties with a palpable tension, as if waiting for another shoe to drop.
Amara appeared at his side, her sharp blue eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. "They're spooked," she said, her voice low. "Vale's gone, but his words stuck. The people don't know if they should trust us or prepare for the worst."
