Chapter 7 · Dead Before the Coup

"You knew."

Halrik didn't even flinch. He stood in the alley mouth, arms crossed, the same polished boots I used to shine back when I thought honor meant something. The moon cut his face in half. One eye in shadow. One watching me like I was already buried.

"Knew what, Dane?"

"Don't." I stepped closer. My hand went to my hip, muscle memory reaching for a sword I hadn't carried in weeks. "You knew about the coup. You knew they were going to move on the prince. And you let me walk into that room like I had a choice."

He tilted his head. Almost curious. "You always had a choice."

"Liar."

"You could've said yes." His voice didn't rise. Didn't need to. "You could've joined us. Kept your rank. Kept your pension. Instead you pulled steel on your own commander and called me a traitor in front of twelve witnesses."

My throat tightened. I remembered that. The prince's study. The smell of burnt parchment. Halrik standing by the window with a rolled decree in one hand and a list of names in the other. *Sign it,* he'd said. *Or we'll sign it for you.*

I'd drawn on him instead.