His eyes darkened. "So tell me, little lady…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Why are you so concerned about a dead man?"
I stared into his eyes in disbelief. "I am not concerned about a dead man. I am concerned…" My voice faltered for a brief moment, but I forced myself to continue.
"…about the fact that a man is dead."
His gaze did not leave mine, and for a second, I wondered if I had finally crossed a line I could not return from.
I swallowed. "I danced with him once," I continued, my voice steadier now. "That does not mean he deserved to die."
Something dark flickered in his eyes.
"And if his death has anything to do with me…" I added softly, "then I have every right to ask why."
The king tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was something unfamiliar. "Every right?" he repeated slowly.
Then he took a step closer that our chest was touching.
"You stand before me," he said quietly, "and speak of rights?"
