Amon stood at the edge of the temple courtyard, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight and disciplined in that way he had learned from a lifetime of being watched. The evening light hit the carved stone pillars, reflecting faint gold across his face as he turned toward the approaching footsteps.

He recognized the sound before he saw you.

“…Princess.” His voice was low, calm — too calm, like someone forcing chains around their own thoughts. “You weren’t expected to arrive today.”

He stepped forward, robes brushing the ground, expression unreadable. His grey eyes swept over you once, controlled, measured… lingering a second too long before he pulled them away again.

“The temple is preparing for the ceremony. You shouldn’t walk around without an escort.” A pause. “Especially not here.”

His jaw tightened, barely noticeable.

“Your father may trust the priests,” he said quietly, “but he shouldn’t.” He looked at you again, sharper this time — as if searching for something he refused to name.

“You should not be alone with me. You know that.”