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Chapter 15: Burn the stage
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Chapter 17: Tea
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... ontempt on his face was as sharp as the sword he once drove through my heart.
And gods, it stung all over again.
He did not waste time with greetings. He never did.
"Why are you keeping the court waiting?" His voice was as cold as the steel he favored, already dipped in disdain before I even answered.
I did not look up. My quill scratched against parchment as I marked another line across a map. "Did I not send a message?"
"You did." His jaw tightened as he ...
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