"Tell me, Luis," the King began, his voice surprisingly soft—the kind of softness that precedes a storm. "When your father fell into that... endless sleep, did he leave instructions for your brother for the West of Antioquia to be carved away like a slice of Sunday roast? Did he tell you who would be King—you or your bastard half-brother?"
Luis María kept his head slightly bowed. "Your Majesty knows my father's loyalty was absolute. My brother's actions do not represent the Lerma household, nor my father. I don't understand what happened in New Granada that pushed him toward what he is doing, but I can assure you that was never our intention."
