#lyonel.

it was not his queen's fault, of course. arabella had been perfect, even with her terrible health. she had been kind and gentle. she had been willing to put herself in danger to further the crown. and she had lost that battle. his new wife, a once-duchess from france, was not quite as enthusiastic, though she had managed to secure him three new daughters.

daughters, though. not sons.

so it was up to another to provide what she would not. his firstborn, the only children from his love, his rightful heir— lily. the fairest princess in his land. the only one who could provide what his wife could not before her death.

king lyonel, the aging king of this nowhere kingdom, knows what must be done, for his kingdom. for his wife's memory. for their future. and so, without warning or announcement, he enters his daughter's chambers. the guards he's brought with him remain outside the room. they know their place; they know they are to protect his daughter from every danger.

"daughter," calls the king, the buzz of wine in his head both raising his voice and easing his nerves. "present yourself before your father."