The silence inside the private reception chamber stretched thin, brittle, and suffocating. Evangeline's hands remained violently locked onto Lilian's velvet collar, her knuckles turning bone-white from the force of her grip. Her crimson eyes burned with a terrifying, demanding intensity, waiting for answers that felt like they would tear the realm apart.
Lilian did not struggle against the Queen's grasp. She merely looked up at Evangeline through her tear-stained veil, her eyes hollow with an ancient, unbearable sorrow.
"Answer me, Lilian," Evangeline rasped, her voice dropping into a dangerous, ragged whisper. "What do you mean he is decaying from within?"
Lilian let out a shaky, trembling breath, her shoulders sagging beneath the Queen's weight. "Silver was born weak, Evangeline... impossibly fragile. As a child, his very essence flickered like a candle in a gale. His spirit was too frail to hold his own blood together."
