Early the next morning, while the transparent dew still clung to the blades of grass and a cool mist threaded through the castle gardens, Prince Reuben slipped quietly from his chambers. The sky was awash in the palest hues of dawn as he made his way through the marble halls, his footsteps echoing faintly against the stone. He was on his way to the royal dining hall—for a conversation with the king and the queen.
Inside the great hall, sunlight poured through the stained-glass windows, casting shards of amber, blue, and violet across the vast breakfast table, a table long enough to host sixty nobles but currently occupied by just a few.
At one end, King Heimdal sat stoically, silently slicing into roasted venison, lost in his thoughts.
