Arden’s POV Everyone rose immediately, not out of loyalty, but out of obligation and fear. Chairs scraped back in a jagged symphony. Robes swished. Shoes clicked into formation. Richard bowed deeply, head bent so low it was almost desperate. Ivana dipped in a graceful curtsy, the kind that was technically perfect but spiritually mocking. Ministers, advisors, and guards aligned themselves in neat rows, their performance of reverence polished through generations of survival. I bowed last. Slowly. Always slowly. The King’s eyes flicked toward me briefly. It was only a fraction of a second, but I had spent a lifetime being dissected in those glances. The tension in his jaw told me everything: he didn’t want me here, but he needed me here. A contradiction that defined most of my life. “Be seated,” he commanded, and the murmurs died instantly, like someone had snuffed out the air in the room. The court settled. Silk rustled. Chairs creaked. Breaths were held. The King didn’t was
Last Updated : 2025-12-05 Read more