The guards didn't block him.
They didn't need to.
Protocol had teeth, but it also recognized blood.
Vaerelina walked at his side now, glancing at him only once, a flick of her green eyes across his profile.
"You don't remember me," she said.
He didn't slow. "Should I?"
"We've never spoken," she replied. "But I was present in the palace when you were born heir years ago."
He kept his gaze forward. "That was a ceremonial name. Nothing was decided."
"No. But everything was watched."
Another beat passed.
She added, more quietly, "You've changed."
"Everyone does."
"Not everyone survives long enough to."
Lindarion didn't respond.
The palace opened around them, an echo of memory, hollowed but intact. He remembered the smell of these halls, faint incense threaded with cold air from the mountain's core vents.
He remembered the weight of the floors, the pressure of the ceiling, not too heavy, not intimidating.
