THE ALPHA HEIR’S DILEMMA
Nicholas’ POV
The throne room wasn’t built for warmth.
It was made of obsidian and marble, soaked in power and legacy. The sunshine never really entered this far, coming in through stained windows, all twisted around in red and gold patterns more like warning signs than decoration.
I was walking across the hall in my boots which made an echo on the stone step by step and made my chest feel tighter and tighter.
He was seated already.
My father—the king—was never early, never late. He existed in his own time. His crown heavy, as ever, sitting on his head of silver.
My voice was steady, "You summoned me."
"You are late," he said, without raising his head.
Right. Of course.
I was standing at the foot of the dais, clasping my hands behind my back, in waiting. Again there was thirty seconds of silence broken only by the drumming of his fingers before he rolled away the scroll and looked up at me at last.
“Well?” he said. “Report.”
I exhaled slowly. “There’s unrest i
