The King already had the perfect candidate in mind. A not-so-powerful nobleman's daughter. The plan was simple: change the rules of the game and let him be the true leader, not his bride. Marrying someone with no great political backing meant no interference in his decisions, no dangerous alliances threatening his crown. What his mother demanded was an heir, and she would get it—but nothing more.
The scene shifted again.
Leon now stood at the heart of a grand ceremony. The world felt too bright, too loud, too overwhelming.
He could feel every gaze pinned to him but when he turned around he saw the King, that what who they were looking at.
The King was dressed in long, heavy robes of gold and crimson silk, the fabrics glimmering under the sun as if the gods themselves had woven them. Gold encircled him everywhere—crown, necklaces, bangles, the embroidery at his cuffs—each thread was spun from molten sunlight, shimmering with authority, with auspiciousness.
