The council hall had emptied hours ago, yet Kaerth still sat at the long table, fingertips tracing the carved edge of the wood as if the grain might give him answers. The palace was quieter now — the kind of quiet that didn't feel peaceful, but watchful.
He knew Ignareth hadn't left. The older prince was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, looking for all the world like he had nowhere better to be.
"You're not subtle," Kaerth muttered without looking at him.
"I'm not trying to be," Ignareth replied easily.
Kaerth turned his head. "That's the problem."
"Is it?" Ignareth's mouth curved faintly. "I thought the problem was that Noah still thinks you're his to control."
Kaerth stiffened. "He's not—"
"Yes, he is," Ignareth cut in. "He's been circling you since the day you stepped foot in this palace. Acting like he can decide where you stand, who you speak to, and when. I don't like leashes."
Kaerth's pulse ticked up. "I'm not on a leash."
