Shock came first, sharp and hollow. Then anger followed… cold, controlled – Northern anger. The kind that did not flare but froze, settling deep in the bones.
“You placed a crown on my head,” I whispered, my voice steady though my pulse thundered, “and expected gratitude.”
“No one expects–”
“You expected obedience.”
The words cut through the hall like steel.
Ryzon stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the marble. “We expect coordination. Decisions that impact inter-kingdom balance cannot be made unilaterally.”
My pulse pounded in my ears, louder than his voice.
“This ball impacts no one but the North.”
“It gathers power centers under your influence.”
“And that,” I asked quietly, leaning into the silence that followed, “is the true issue, isn’t it?”
Silence again. Heavy and
