Thorn's POV
The sun was setting by the time I crossed the border.
I did not wait. I did not look back. I did not give myself a moment to feel the weight of what had happened in that council chamber. The sword in her hands. The look in her eyes. The way she had stood there, in her crown, with her chin raised, and told me to leave.
I sat in my travelling chambers and was very still for a long time.
The room was small. Functional. A desk. A chair. A bed that I would not sleep in. Maps on the wall. A fire burning low. My men knew not to approach me when I was this still. They had learned that lesson years ago.
I thought about Elara.
About the sword in her hands. It had been hanging on that wall for generations, they said. A relic. A decoration. And she had taken it down like she had been born holding it. Like it had been waiting for her.
