Sebastian had never liked ceremonies.
Not because he disliked formality. Formality was useful. Predictable. It provided people with rules to hide behind and paths to follow when their emotions became too strong to cope without a system.
He disliked ceremonies because they trapped everyone in the same room in the name of… 'honor.'
There were too many eyes.
Too many cameras.
Too many well-placed loyalties beneath white silk and gold banners pretending they hadn't spent the last month negotiating, threatening, bleeding, bargaining or lying to get here.
Sebastian stood at Dean's side with Zion beside him, both positioned where Dean's immediate family and closest royal blood were expected to stand. The placement made sense. Sebastian was Dean's older brother. Zion, Crown Prince of Palatine, was their cousin and the same age as Sebastian. Twenty-five. Old enough, supposedly, to understand the weight of royal events without wanting to escape through the nearest service corridor.
