Myrcella's POV
"What in the world is the meaning of this, Princess?"
The Commander's voice cut through the room, and it was sharp and unfiltered as ever. It wasn't loud, but it carried a kind of pressure that made the air feel heavier than it already was. She stood straight, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on me like she was trying to peel me apart layer by layer.
"I know you hold a great deal of authority," she continued, her tone clipped, "but that doesn't mean you can abuse it however you like. There has to be a limit to these things. Surely you understand that."
This was new.
For the first time since I'd known her, the Commander looked genuinely angry at me.
Not annoyed. Not mildly irritated. She was pissed.
And honestly? I couldn't blame her.
Given what I'd done, this reaction was almost expected.
After all, the reward I had publicly announced for the tournament—the one I was personally hosting—was a dinner. A dinner with me.
And not just me.
