Late Night in the East Wing – Ignareth & Kaerth
The East Wing was quiet, but not empty. The corridors here always felt warmer, heavier, like the walls themselves were keeping secrets from the rest of the palace. Kaerth had been pacing outside the balcony for almost ten minutes, his fingers brushing against the carved stone railing as he tried to think of a way to get through tomorrow without saying something he'd regret.
He was about to leave when he heard soft, measured footsteps behind him. He didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"I told you not to wander here at night," Ignareth's voice came, calm but carrying that undertone that made Kaerth's spine tighten.
Kaerth finally looked over his shoulder. "And I told you I don't take orders from you."
Ignareth stepped into the moonlight, his silver-threaded uniform catching faint glints from the night sky. He didn't stop walking until he was standing close—too close—forcing Kaerth to lean back slightly against the railing.
