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She twisted her head to glare at him
incredulously. And found the king smirking.
“You look like you’re about to bolt,” he
said, that smile lingering. “It will set the
wrong tone.”
He was trying to rile her, to distract her
into loosening her iron-hard grip on her
control.
“They know who you are,” Dorian went on.
“Proving that part of it is over. Whether they
accept you will be the true matter.” Her great-
grandmother must have come from the
nonroyal part of her bloodline, then. “These
do not seem like witches who will be won by
brutality.”
He didn’t know the half of it. “Are you
presuming to give me advice?”
“Consider it a tip, from one monarch to
another.”
Despite who walked ahead of them, behind