I remained rooted to the spot as King Theron Valerius entered Alaric's study. The room seemed to shrink around me, the air suddenly thick with tension. This was not how things were supposed to go. Alaric had just been escorted to his chambers by his devoted wife, leaving me alone with the King of the realm—a man whose cold gaze could freeze blood.
"Your Majesty," I managed, attempting to bow with some semblance of dignity. "I was just leaving."
"No," King Theron said, his voice deceptively calm. "You weren't."
He moved to Alaric's desk and casually sat on its edge, the picture of royal confidence. Despite his relaxed posture, there was nothing casual about the steel in his eyes or the rigid set of his jaw.
"Orion," he continued, my name sounding like an accusation on his lips. "I believe we need to have a conversation that's been years in the making."
My throat tightened. "Your Majesty, if this is about Lord Ravenscroft's case—"
