Aldric stood in his grand hall, the thick parchment in his hand trembling slightly as he read Draka’s response.
His brows furrowed. His chest rose with each breath until finally—
Crash!
He knocked the goblet of wine from the table, its contents splashing red across the pristine marble floor. The throne room fell into silence as his advisors and guards looked on, unsure of what to say.
“No one—no one dares to reject me,” Aldric snarled, voice deep with restrained fury.
But Draka had done just that.
Boldly.
Unapologetically.
And worst of all—publicly.
The letter was clear, cutting, and filled with the unmistakable stamp of dominance. Draka had not only declined the proposal for alliance through marriage, but declared himself mated—and that his chosen female carried his heir.
It was
