Aspen snuggled up to Anton Cook with a glass of wine, nudged his arm quietly, and whispered, "You're familiar with the Saintess, aren't you?"
Anton Cook sat in silence, radiating an aura of chilliness.
Aspen continued on his own: "Although she wore a veil, judging by this prince's experienced eyes after seeing numerous women, she must not be from Percival. She shares the same bloodline as you, no wonder you've been paying so much attention to her. You two were acquainted from the start."
"But her grandiose theories won't work on me. I like to take revenge whenever there's a grudge."
No wonder his sister failed. Randa did not possess such heart-bewitching methods. What the new king needs now is precisely such a Queen Consort, who could help him win over the people's hearts.
Aspen took a sip of the wine, his mouth full of fruity aroma, contentedly squinting his eyes.
