King Red’s stare had the weight of history in it. Even before he spoke, the room felt smaller—like the air itself anticipated a knife.
He didn’t trust the Princess. He never had. And the way the study’s crimson and blue banners swallowed the light made me realize how deep the suspicion ran—not just across borders but into the very heart of this ceremony.
“Prince Cassian,” King Red’s voice cut, calm and sharp, “you intend to declare war over changes to my daughter? Is that what I hear?”
My mother’s lessons were loud in my head: pride burns fast, and when it does it consumes nations. But this wasn’t pride. This was something fouler—deliberate sabotage.
“Yes,” I said. “Because the event you staged—bringing us together under one roof—wasn’t innocent. If you deny it, then you will have to e
