The grand halls of the Blackwood Palace were silent, but Skylar's steps carried unwavering determination. She pushed open the heavy double doors to the Imperial Chamber, where Ethan Blackwood stood, his gaze fixed on the city below.
"You've gone too far."
Ethan didn't turn. His hands remained clasped behind his back, his posture rigid. "Define 'too far,' Skylar." His voice was smooth, measured.
Skylar stepped forward. "The oppression. The executions. The absolute power you wield without question." Her voice was sharp. "This is not the Blackwood way."
Finally, Ethan turned, his expression unreadable. "And what is the Blackwood way, Skylar? Peace? Negotiation?" A smirk touched his lips. "That world was weak. It fell under its own weight. I rebuilt it—stronger, unchallenged."
Skylar's jaw clenched. "At what cost? You rule with an iron grip. The people fear you. Even Christiana questions your judgment."
Ethan's eyes darkened. "She should know her place."
Skylar's heart pounded. She had known Ethan Carter before he became Ethan Blackwood—before the crown, before the absolute rule. This was not the same man.
"And Chris?" she pressed. "He watches everything, yet he remains silent. But tell me, Ethan—do you really believe his silence is approval?"
For the first time, Ethan hesitated.
Skylar saw it—the flicker of doubt in his eyes. But only for a second. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.