Queen Beatrice's crown glinted like judgment itself, and her eyes, sharp and unreadable, swept over the room before settling on her son.
Then, finally, on Anna.
"Aidan," she said, her voice clipped with fury.
He straightened. "Mother."
"You dared to choose her despite how I told you to choose the Princess?" Her gaze slid toward Anna again, this time lingering. "You mistake this life, and this crown for something optional. You think being a prince is something you can take on and off like a cloak when it suits you."
"I never asked for any of this," he said, his voice rising. "All I ever wanted was a life that belonged to me. Not one that has been written for me since I was five."
