“And what if he chooses wrong?” I asked. “If the king decides to protect his council to protect his crown? If he brands us dangerous?” The scenario slid behind my words like a knife.
Prince Leon’s hand tightened on his glass. “Then we burn the court. We bring the evidence to the people and to allied packs. We march. I have allies who will stand with me if I give them reason. You make them see that the council is rotten. But first we buy ourselves leverage.”
I let his meaning settle. He was asking me to play a lie — to let Marigold be the bait — because when the king accepted the bait in public, he’d be committed to a defense of that lie. Once committed publicly, the throne could no longer ignore a carefully-timed revelation without looking complicit. It would be ugly. It would be dangero
