King Deema spent the entire afternoon in crisis meetings.
The war was spreading so fast with people dying, and somehow, the public was talking more about him sharing a bed with Nia than they were about the missiles crossing the sea.
The king sat in the media briefing room surrounded by his advisors and ministers.
The atmosphere was tense.
One advisor pushed a tablet toward him.
"Your Majesty, public sentiment is turning hostile. The high council is already calling for an investigation."
Another spoke.
"The Queen's supporters are gaining sympathy. People believe you betrayed the royal family during a national crisis."
A third added firmly.
"We need a narrative shift."
The king's jaw tightened.
A narrative shift, that was exactly what he needed, right now he was losing control, and it felt like he might go mad.
His fingers drummed slowly and thoughtfully against the table, then after a while his eyes brightened with a big idea.
