From the corner of his eyes, Atticus saw the Pride Queen glance toward him. Her meaning was clear. She was leaving this to him.
Yet there was something else hidden within her gaze. Curiosity. She wanted to see how he would handle this.
Atticus remained silent. He neither looked at the king nor acknowledged his presence. To him, the man might as well have been an insignificant, wailing ant.
The king's eyes narrowed. He had expected some form of reaction from Atticus. Realization. Anger. Perhaps even fear. Yet blatant disregard had never once crossed his mind.
His expression darkened. A mere subordinate had dared…
The king shifted his gaze toward the Pride Queen, his frown deepening.
The woman wore a faint smile, calm and utterly unconcerned. Rage immediately flared within his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Pride Queen spoke first.
"So."
She leaned back lazily against her seat and crossed one leg over the other atop the table. The king's brows twitched.
