Epilogue

D awn’s first light crept through the windows as Castien pulled on his leathers. He winced, the once-snug garments now hanging loose on his wasted frame. A stark reminder of his weakness.

Never again.

The cool halls echoed with his determined footsteps as he strode to the sparring ring. The estate slumbered, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within its prince.

At the entrance, Declan’s hulking form blocked the doorway. Steam curled from the mug in his massive hands, the rich aroma of coffee filling the air. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of Castien, but he remained silent.

Castien’s jaw clenched. The weight of his mother’s injuries and a traitor’s escape pressed down on him, fueling a fire in his gut. No more weakness. No more failure.

“Declan,” Castien growled, shouldering past the guard.

Heavy footsteps followed him into the ring. Castien turned, meeting Declan’s questioning gaze.

“Yes, my lord?” The guard’s voice was cautious, his features carefully blank.

Castien’s eyes hardened, his voice low and dangerous. “I want you to kick my ass. ”

A wicked grin spread across Declan’s face, a predatory glint in his eye. “It would be my pleasure, my lord.”