The court went dead silent.
Zyran's words hung in the air, too loud, too sharp. You could feel the shift like the room itself held its breath.
Then Lord Uriah stepped forward, voice tight with authority. "What do you think you're doing, Prince Zyran? Are you challenging His Majesty?"
Zyran turned to him, slow, like he didn't even hear the question at first.
His eyes were glassy. Red-rimmed. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in days, no, like someone who'd just woken up into a nightmare.
"Have I?" His voice cracked. "Or are you just panicking because I said something you can't twist?"
He took a shaky breath. His hand curled into a fist, not around a weapon just holding something in.
"Don't push me, Uriah. Not today." His jaw clenched. "Not when my wife's body is still warm."
Then louder, breaking into the silence with the desperation of someone teetering on the edge:
"Bring me my wife!"
Everything broke.