"What am I going to tell Mother…?"
Hendrix's footsteps echoed softly through the gilded corridors of the Diamond Palace as he left the ballroom, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The weight in his chest refused to lift.
He'd expected resistance from Heinz—he always did—but some part of him, stubborn and foolish, had held on to the hope that after all these years, his brother's hatred might have dulled. That maybe, just maybe, time had softened him.
But no.
He had been wrong.
Painfully wrong.
It was disappointing… crushing, even. But could he truly blame his brother?
He thought not.
Still, Hendrix didn't want to give up—not when his mother's kingdom still teetered on the edge of ruin. Yet choice had been ripped from him.
Heinz's words were final, cold and sharp as a blade: If you come back, I will have you and your mother killed.
That left Hendrix with only one path—to find another way to save her people.
He stopped walking.
