"Winter approaches, and much of the kingdom depends upon cotton for warmth," the King said, his voice carrying easily over the crowd. "A fact I should not have to remind the Crown Prince of."
A ripple moved through the balconies and the square below. The King's smile did not change, but his gaze sharpened, sliding toward Theron with a cool precision that made the air feel tighter.
"You are not attempting to provoke a rebellion, I trust," he continued, his tone almost mild. "Though I confess, if one were trying to do so, this would be an admirably efficient method."
Theron's jaw stiffened.
He had no idea what his father wanted from him anymore. If he were being generous, he might have assumed this was merely a public warning, a paternal correction delivered in front of the court for appearance's sake.
