"I know you don't like your father," Arik said smoothly, "but you shouldn't kill him."
Rex could not hold it anymore the moment Ray's face emptied of color.
He laughed.
It came out as one sharp breath, almost disbelief, then another, and then it broke from him in a way that made half the room stare at him with fresh horror. He laughed until tears formed at the corners of his eyes, one hand braced against the edge of the table, his shoulders trembling beneath the weight of too many years spent being the reasonable son of an unreasonable king.
"Well, Ray?" Rex asked, smiling through it. "Wasn't that what Felix wanted? For me to kill George? For the blame to fall on Agaron and me?"
Ray did not answer.
He could not, for once, because he had finally understood the room.
The dead king.
The sealed meeting.
The foreign prince sitting calmly at the head of the table.
Rex laughing instead of collapsing.
Arik's polite accusation placed in front of every adviser and guard.
