“That’s what we’re here to ask for,” Clinton says smoothly. “Support for Tessa’s formal challenge. She wants to be recognized not only by the Blue Rock elders, but by you, Your Majesty.”
The King leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “And what makes you think I’d ever consider such a thing? If every daughter started challenging for a title, what next? Queenship by birth order?”
“I thought you supported merit over tradition,” I say. “That’s how Camille was raised, isn’t it?”
The room stiffens.
Lilith moves back to her place on the dais.
I don’t miss the faint shift in Queen Mirelle’s jaw, or the way Lilith’s smile fades just a touch. The empty throne beside the king suddenly looms larger.
The King doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he rises, slow and deliberate. He steps
