The moment Heiko stepped out of the royal wing, a cool breeze kissed his face, and the castle corridors greeted him with hushed murmurs and darting eyes. He could feel it—the whispers, the curiosity, the disbelief.
Every guard he passed, every maid who bowed, every warrior who glanced his way, they all wore the same expression: confusion mixed with intrigue, after last night’s events. Yet, Heiko didn’t flinch. His gait remained steady, his eyes fixed forward. Let them talk. Let them speculate. He had made his choice.
And nothing, not the whispers, not the politics, not even the weight of his own bloodline, would make him question it.
When he reached the training grounds, the usual tension in his body, the tug-of-war between man and beast, was strangely absent. As he picked up his weapon
