“What?” Killian balks. “He isn’t born yet. That doesn’t mean anything. Your territory needs a King, not a fucking—” He makes a wild, belligerent gesture. “Whatever the hell this is! Don’t make this some weird group rule bullshit,” he says, eyes pleading. “Sy and I—we’re really trying to bring about change in Forsyth Royalty, but you’re running before we’ve crawled. You get one King, just like the rest of us.” He holds up a finger. “One King. Not three, a fetus, and his mommy.”
