KODA'S POV
The bathwater was perfectly warm, scented with oils that reminded me of the jasmine gardens Mother used to tend while she was alive. I leaned back against the marble edge of the tub, letting the heat work through muscles that had been tense since this morning's confrontation with Father. The omega attendant worked silently, pouring water over my shoulders with practiced efficiency.
These moments of quiet were rare. Between council meetings, training sessions, and managing the delicate politics of court, I rarely had time to just exist without performing some role or another. The Prince. The heir. The diplomatic son trying to balance his father's brutality with his mother's memory.
Footsteps echoed in the outer chamber, followed by a soft knock.
"Enter," I called.
