Darin exhaled slowly, leaning against the balcony railing as the city buzzed beneath him. The storm of public opinion had been carefully cultivated, manipulated, and set loose. For now, he was safe.
But not forever.
The Church wouldn't just give up.
This victory had bought him time, months, perhaps—but as long as he remained within the capital, he would always be within their grasp.
No. If he truly wanted to be free of their influence, he had to leave.
Darin took a deep breath. "I want to speak with the King."
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Making moves already?"
Darin didn't rise to the bait. He was done playing reactive. It was time to decide his own path.
Without waiting for more commentary, he turned on his heel and walked straight toward the throne room. The guards at the doors hesitated for only a moment before stepping aside.
As soon as Darin stepped inside, the sight that greeted him was, in a word, ridiculous.
