He had broken through the night.
What remained now was quieter.
Harder.
“I failed you.”
The accusation held no reason.
Grief rarely did.
“But I will not fail you in this.”
He pressed his mouth to her knuckles and held it there.
“If there is a price, I will pay it.”
The air did not change.
The fire did not dim.
Nothing answered.
But the promise remained.
Outside the chamber, the stronghold continued its careful movements—boots crossing stone, doors closing quietly, voices held low.
Life rearranging itself around loss.
Sule lifted his head.
He brushed Leena’s hair away from her face with aching precision, as though preparing her for something more than burial.
“Wait for me,” he whispered.
Not a goodbye.
A beginning.
* * *
The heir’s cries rose again from the adjoining nursery.
Dax turned toward the sound.
Malakai caught the movement and looked toward the closed door. Then he turned from the window and signed,We cannot leave Sule like this forever. He will destroy himself.
Cole looked directly at him and answered aloud while signing.
He needs to grieve. But he is still our king, and the clan needs him.
The room held the aftertaste of violence—smoke, old stone, and the metallic wrongness that lingered after too much blood had soaked into a place.
Outside, the compound remained trapped in a hush that felt less like peace than shock.
As though the entire stronghold were waiting for Sule’s grief to finish cracking the walls.
Chapter 13
