Winter's Crown had known war, rebellion, and treachery, but now it had something new—Damien as its Lord Protector.
The morning after his acceptance, the palace was alive with movement. Soldiers saluted him with renewed vigor. Nobles whispered in the corridors, some cautiously optimistic, others fearful of what his new authority meant.
Damien strode through the halls with purpose, his steel-gray eyes sharp. Power had been handed to him, but power alone meant nothing. It was how it was used that shaped history.
As he entered the council chamber, his closest allies—Erynn, Carys, and Amara—were already gathered.
Erynn looked up from a stack of reports. "Your first full day as Lord Protector. How does it feel?"
Damien smirked. "Like I have a target on my back."
Amara grinned, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, you definitely do. Some of the nobles looked like they were swallowing poison when you accepted the title."