Damian remained by the sideboard for a moment longer, the weight of his decision settling into the quiet of his private study. The whiskey burned as it slid down his throat, but it did little to temper the frustration simmering beneath his skin. He exhaled sharply, carefully placing the glass down before finally moving toward his chambers.
The palace corridors were silent at this hour, with the dim glow of lanterns casting long shadows across the marble floors. He dismissed the servants who were waiting outside his bedroom with a single glance, uninterested in their presence. The weight of the day pressed against his shoulders, and for the first time in hours, he allowed himself to feel the exhaustion creeping in.