“The extradition is approved.”

“I want to see her,” Alexander said.

His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried a heavy weight.

“I must look at her one last time, Father.”

The King looked at his son, his expression softening slightly.

“She is being brought to the holding rooms in the east gallery,” the King said.

“You may go, but you will not go alone.”

“Commander Carter will accompany you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said.

I adjusted my uniform jacket, feeling the familiar weight of the fabric against my shoulders.

We walked out of the King’s office, our boots clicking against the polished marble of the hallway.

The palace was quiet now, the grand halls empty of the wedding guests who had filled them hours before.

The scent of thousands of cut white roses still hung in the air, sweet and suffocating.

We passed a window overlooking the courtyard.

The rain was coming down harder now, washing over the gravel paths and the parked diplomatic sedans.

Two royal guards stood outside the double oak doors of the east gallery suite.