The music roared back to life. The nobles laughed too loudly, drank too deeply. But the fear was still there, humming under the marble floors, bleeding through the walls.
I stood near the far pillars, half in shadow, half in the light — watching everything. I didn't touch the wine. I didn't dance. I didn't pretend.
I should have expected it when the black-cloaked guard appeared beside me — silent, sudden.
"The King requests your presence," he said with a bow.
I followed him through the crowd. Heads turned. Eyes flicked toward me and then quickly away. No one stopped me. No one dared.
The King stood, away from the worst of the noise, a goblet in his hand, untouched. He didn't look at me as I approached. Just said, almost lazily, "You never claimed your reward."
I stiffened slightly. That again. I hadn't expected him to remember. Had hoped, maybe, that he wouldn't.
I bowed my head, voice careful. "I didn't want to presume, my King."
