The Great Hall was entirely silent.
The sound of the Saintess weeping echoed off the cold, unforgiving black stone. Sylvanna was completely broken. Her pristine white gown was ruined, stained with dirt and the undeniable reality of her own treachery. Her reputation, carefully curated over decades of lies, was entirely liquidated. The aristocratic audience, the very people who had bowed to her only days ago, now watched her with sheer, unadulterated disgust.
Lexianna leaned back against the dark velvet cushions of Arkin's iron chair. She didn't feel a single ounce of pity.
The revenge was far from over. This public audit wasn't the final execution; it was merely a demonstration of market dominance. Lexianna just wanted to punish her. She wanted the golden child to look up from the dirt and see exactly how much absolute power her discarded sister held now.
The Fox King finally moved.
