Darius's POV
I stood alone in the shadows of the northern tower, watching the empire below flicker like dying embers in a storm.
Classic.
The revelation still echoed in my mind.
He wasn't just protecting Chris—he was doing it behind everyone's back. Including mine. Including Amara's.
It changed everything.
The report burned in my pocket like a confession. If I handed it over to Amara, it would trigger a chain reaction. She'd confront Chris. Classic would be exposed. The entire silent alliance would unravel before it even matured.
But…
A part of me admired it.
The precision. The silence. The boldness to move in an empire this volatile and stay invisible.
Classic was no longer just the prince. He was playing a deeper game—and I couldn't help but respect that.
Still, I had a job to do.
I returned to Amara's chamber. She stood over the table, maps and dossiers spread out like a battlefield. Her eyes lifted—piercing, expectant.
"Well?" she asked.
I hesitated. Not out of fear. Out of calculation.
"Nothing conclusive," I said smoothly. "A few whispers, nothing solid. Someone's covering their tracks well."
Her jaw clenched. "Keep digging. I want that ghost unmasked."
I nodded and left—but my mind was already racing.
I couldn't serve two masters.
But maybe I could serve the empire.
And right now… the only one moving like he truly wanted to preserve the throne's legacy wasn't Amara, and definitely not Christiana or Skylar.
It was Classic.
And maybe, just maybe, I needed to start thinking beyond Amara.
If Classic was building something behind the curtain… then I'd find my way in.
Not for loyalty.
But for survival.