The crown on King Oberon's head had never felt heavier than at that moment. Standing just outside the door to the throne room, he could hear the ruckus from within—angry voices rising in a chaotic cacophony.
He understood their fury; it was justified to some extent. Aldric had gone too far, even if all he had done was protect himself. But the system was against him, and the cabinet members had long been looking for a reason to get rid of Aldric, an eyesore in their ranks. His passionate yet foolish son had just handed them that reason on a silver platter.
Oberon took a deep breath, steeling himself. Every ounce of emotion was pushed back, masked beneath the cold, piercing look of his blue eyes. His face was a study in royal composure as he stepped into the room.
