Theron lowered his head just enough to look obedient.
"Mother's choice was practical," he said evenly. "House Caelvaris will satisfy the court, and Lady Roselyn knows how to carry herself."
He lifted his gaze, calm as still water.
"As for whether I like her… that has never been the thing that decides my place here, has it?"
The words were careful. Respectful, even. But there was a blade hidden inside them.
"You have never kept me as crown prince because of sentiment, Father. You kept me because I am useful."
He paused, but not long enough to be rude. Just long enough to sting.
Theron's expression did not change. "So if this marriage serves the crown, I will not oppose it."
It sounded like obedience.
It was not.
It was a reminder that he understood the game perfectly well, and that he knew exactly how little room there was for love within it.
