Grayson met her gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment before his thumb gently brushed a tear from her cheek. "The dark realm holds no allure for me, Mailah," he said softly, his voice dropping into a low, raspy cadence. "It never did. A throne is merely a gilded cage, and I have sat in it far too long."
Mailah hesitated, her heart twisting with a profound, conflicting warmth. "Grayson... you say that, but what about your heritage? Your position as an Ashford? Without your past memories of your previous exile on Earth, you don't fully remember what it means to be stripped of your standing. Back then, you chose to walk away because you knew the weight of it. Now, you're making a decision based only on what you feel right now. What if you need that authority later? What if losing your title leaves you vulnerable to the very council you're trying to walk away from?"
