Alaric took a step forward, his hand white-knuckled as he clenched his fists, his eyes a storm of blue fire.
"Answer the question, Aurelian. Was it true? Did you bury her final words while I bled for you? Did you intentionally do that while knowing how deeply I wished to hear from her?"
Aurelian looked at him for a while and then let out a sharp, jagged laugh—a sound devoid of any joy. He looked back at Julian, a twisted, bitter smile playing on his lips.
"The scholar knows," Aurelian announced, gesturing toward Julian with a trembling hand. "He read them. I made him sit in my study and read every line, every word of Bellanora's devotion, just so I could see the light leave his eyes. I wanted him to understand that in this Empire, nothing belongs to the North—not even their grief."
A collective, horrified gasp rippled through the tiered seats. The admission was a thunderclap.
