"I told you, I am just as surprised as you are," Lucius repeated evenly, his voice calm but weary.
But Delilah didn't believe a single word of it.
How could she?
Lucius and Lancelot were the king's most trusted confidants. His shadows. His right and left hands. If anyone in the entire palace knew of this sudden, baffling decision—it would be them.
Of course she wouldn't believe him.
Of course they were keeping her in the dark again.
'Because I'm old? Is that it? Because my hair's gone white and my bones creak when I walk?' Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, knuckles whitening. 'They forget it was I who held this palace together when the king was still a boy crying over his dead mother.'
She should have been informed. She had earned that much.
"I am in no mood for lies, Lord Darkthorn," Delilah said, her tone sharp and unforgiving.
