"Stop spouting nonsense!"
William's voice cracked through the room like a whip.
He had been pacing relentlessly across Nathaniel's chambers, boots striking the polished floor in sharp, uneven rhythms. The fire in the hearth flickered wildly, casting restless shadows across the walls, as if even the flames couldn't settle in the presence of such tension.
He stopped abruptly and turned, his glare locked onto Nathan.
The silver-haired prince sat near the fireplace, one arm draped over the chair armrest, posture composed but his body betraying exhaustion. There was a heaviness about him now, something deeper than physical fatigue, something almost ancient, as if something within him had newly awakened.
"I have no reason to lie to you William," Nathan said evenly, though his voice carried a faint rasp. "I did not understand any of this myself until recently."
William scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair.
