CHAPTER 75
The man strode toward the table with silent grace. Isabella felt a prickle of recognition; even in this vision, his aura was a cold weight she knew instinctively.
"Ah, the Crown Prince is here," someone whispered among the lesser lords. Isabella watched as the King spoke. "Prince Caleb," the King at the head of the table boomed, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "You are late to your own celebration."
The newcomer—the Crown Prince—walked with a high head. He didn't bow as he moved past the lesser lords; in fact, the men seated bowed slightly as he passed.
He took the seat between Lucian and the King, occupying the space closest to the crown. "A King's business is never finished, Father," Prince Caleb replied, his voice a low, gravelly resonance that made Isabella's pulse quicken.
The King stood, raising a golden goblet. The candlelight caught the jagged rubies in his crown.
