The silence in the throne room was absolute, broken only by the ragged, terrified sobs of Lady Jane.
The council members stared, their mouths agape, at the Crown Prince who stood over his mistress like an executioner.
Jane curled into a ball on the cold marble steps, her hands clutching her torn dress. Her mind was a whirlwind of panic.
"What is he going to do to me?" she thought, her heart hammering against her ribs. "He knows. He knows I tried to kill Marissa. But why drag me here? Why in front of the King? Why call me a traitor?"
She looked up at him, searching for any sign of the man she loved, but found only a monster.
"What?" the King asked, his voice trembling with shock. He sat up straighter on his throne, gripping the armrests until his knuckles turned white. "Liam, what is the meaning of this? Why are you treating Lady Jane this way? She is a noblewoman! She is your..."
He couldn't finish the sentence. Your mistress.
