Jocelynn's testimony washed over the Great Hall like a flood, forcefully dragging people along with it and making it impossible to remain unchanged by its passing. Rumors were one thing, especially when they bubbled up from gossip among the household staff. Hearing it directly from one of Percivus's victims was something else entirely.
At the High Table, Tosha Saliou pressed a trembling hand to the strand of glittering jewels at her throat, her fingers curling around the polished stones as though someone might tear them away at any moment. She'd heard Jocelynn's words clearly enough, stripped of her clothing, forced to trade her rings and jewelry for scraps of meat in the dungeon, and the image that settled in Tosha's mind wasn't of Lady Jocelynn's suffering but of her own jewels sitting in an Inquisitor's palm.
