She fought the urge to look at Yeren. Apart from her sister, who else knew?
Seraphine?
Zachary?
Would they risk their lives for her?
"In that case, let us begin." The man at the center.
The silence stretched until it felt manufactured.
Jarren leaned against his polished cane. He looked bored. He exuded the aura of someone who knew the endgame before it began. He didn't even have to say it - it showed on the cut of his clothes, the tilt of his head.
"Do you not have any witnesses?" Redmare asked.
She swallowed.
"None, my lord."
Redmare sat on the raised bench on the daise.
She turned towards the throne finally.
The young King sat there, leaning lazily against the back rest.
Everything about him was languid and indifferent - except his eyes. They were sharp and cold, but not towards her.
He cut eye contact by turning to Andon.
"Lord Straught. Call forward your first witness."
A young stableboy in shaggy leather and breeches stepped into the box.
