King Aldrich stood very still for a long moment after her last words.
Stillness in him had never meant hesitation. It meant decision.
Something in Liora's defiance had done what pain had not. It had offended him. Not because she resisted. Because she had made resistance look effortless. And for a man who had spent his life commanding obedience, that felt less like courage and more like insult—a pebble thrown at a throne, expecting not to be crushed.
His expression cooled by the smallest degree. More unnerving than any shout. A man who does not raise his voice does not need to.
"Pride," he said at last, almost as though diagnosing a flaw in a weapon, "can survive where flesh cannot."
He looked to the guards.
And gave the order so quietly Liora almost missed it.
"Take her hands."
