"From now on," Lord Cletio said sharply, his voice low but hard as stone, "if you ever speak of such matters again in the company of others, I will put distance between us so fast you'll feel the cold, and I'll write to your father myself—first thing—about your little plans.
I will not be brought down by your infancies, do you realise the gravity of what we are talking?"
His words struck like a hammer against the quiet of the morning air atop the capital's most outer wall.
It took every ounce of the old lord's restraint not to strike that smug grin off the prince's face. That damned boy had dared to speak in riddles of treason—or close enough to it—within earshot of their guards. Cletio's hands clenched at his sides as he swallowed the rising tide of fury.
What is he thinking? Is he trying to be caught? Or does he not understand the danger?
