But then Margaret’s gaze slipped to the dark shape beneath him. The moment shattered. King tensed, curling tighter around it, a snarl ripping from his throat so sharp it vibrated through the glass. Margaret froze, recognizing the line she couldn’t cross.
She straightened slowly, backing away with calm authority. “He trusts me enough to listen,” she told the staff quietly, “but not enough to let me near that thing. Whatever he’s guarding, it’s more important to him than food, comfort…even me.”