The morning was brisk, a faint mist lingering over the palace grounds as Rhygar observed his mother from a discreet vantage point.
Lysandra, cloaked and moving with a purpose that suggested urgency, swept out of her balcony and into the dark crimson skies.
Her cloak billowed around her, an uncommon accessory that piqued Rhygar's curiosity.
It was not the attire she typically wore for her official duties or casual outings. This cloak seemed designed to conceal, to blend in with the surroundings, or perhaps to shield her from prying eyes.
Rhygar's heart raced with a mix of apprehension and suspicion. He had seen her don this cloak once before—right after his father had departed for his extended trip. The memory of that day flashed through his mind, fueling his resolve.
Where was she going in such secrecy?
This time, he was prepared, armed not just with intent but with a means to follow her undetected.