Nala couldn't help but laugh softly as she overheard her daughters. It seemed their taste in men aligned perfectly with hers—or maybe Asher was just too hard to ignore.
She licked her lips, her admiration barely hidden. Beside her, Leonardo noticed her growing excitement but said nothing. Confronting her would be pointless; he was nothing more than a puppet king, a placeholder in the grand scheme of things.
Asher walked onto the stage, calm and unbothered by the chatter around him. His plain gray robe didn't scream power, but his face—calm, composed, and focused—was enough to make an impression.
Across from him, Abir gripped his ornate staff tightly, trying to appear confident despite the cold sweat forming on his brow.
Was Lucia exaggerating Asher's abilities to stir up the crowd? Or was this man truly as dangerous as she'd hinted?
He clung to the belief that she was building suspense to make his victory all the more dramatic and sweeter.
