Varon remained as still and unyielding as a mountain, his dark eyes locked on his brother. To an outsider, his expression would have been unreadable, a mask of cold stone. But to the King, who knew him better than anyone else in the realm, Varon's face was a roadmap of controlled fury. King Hati sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that was more performative than genuine. The silence stretched between them, heavy .
"Monrel is going to be displeased to do this all over again," the King murmured, a sly glint in his eye as he began to walk away from the tub. The thick, dark blood dripped from his body, splattering softly onto the marble floor with each step.
"Where are you going?" Varon's voice finally broke the silence. It was stern and blunt, stripped of any politeness, but there was annoyance, the quiet frustration simmering beneath the surface.
