Lyra's POV
Leo hadn’t said a word since last night.
And I didn’t push.
Not because I didn’t have questions,I had arsenals. But because I wanted to watch. I wanted to see just how long the king could pretend he hadn’t been cornered in his own palace.
Turns out? Not very long.
That morning, he didn’t kiss me. Didn’t brush his hand over my hip like he usually did, like he owned the geography of my skin. No slick words. No posturing.
Just silence.
The kind that made the air feel like it had teeth.
He sat at the end of the dining table, wearing a shirt he hadn’t bothered to steam, sleeves wrinkled like his nerves. Mira was at the far end, coloring something that looked suspiciously like Leo in a cage. I didn’t ask. I was too busy watching the man unravel.
His coffee went cold. Twice.
