He sat alone in his chambers, moonlight spilling across the polished floor like silver ribbons, and for once, Leon let his mind wander—not to battle strategy or politics, but to the past.
The truth was… The throne was never meant for him.
Their kingdom had always been matriarchal. The bloodline passed through the women. The crown, the power, the legacy—it was supposed to be Catalina's. She was the firstborn. The prodigy. The one everyone knew would rule.
And he was just the baby brother.
He'd heard it all the time as a kid. "Our future Queen Catalina," they'd say, smiling. "And her sweet little brother." That was his role. The prince. The little lion cub trailing after them, looking for attention. And gods, did they give it to him.
