The Patriarch withdrew from the ballroom's crowded center and took a crystal glass of red wine from a servant, though he did not drink while the King's question remained fresh.
His fingers tightened around the slender stem while polite laughter resumed around him.
'The King played me perfectly.'
The question about his history with Hajin had forced him toward two dangerous answers. Acknowledgment exposed the family secret, while denial made his public objection look foolish before the court.
'He offered me a choice, then made both choices surrender.'
Hurried footsteps approached from his left.
"Father," a sharp voice called beneath the returning orchestra.
The Patriarch's eldest son marched toward him with anger burning across his flushed face, the same Flint representative who had defended Kenny before the council and lost that chamber's confidence.
"What were you thinking?" his son whispered, stopping close enough to hide the conversation from lip-readers.
