If Rowan was the king, then who exactly was the man sitting on the throne all this time?
Rosalind thought to herself as a shiver crawled down her spine.
Rowan was alive, very much alive, and yet Alaric ruled openly as king while everybody in the palace treated Rowan as nothing more than a mere footman.
None of it made sense, and the more Rosalind thought about it, the more uneasy she became.
Something terrible had happened in this palace years ago, something carefully hidden beneath lies and fear, and she was beginning to suspect that Alaric stood at the very center of it all just as he always did.
"Rosalind..." Thalia called from the entrance, seeing that the guards were beginning to regain consciousness and untie the cloths wrapped tightly around their faces. "We need to leave now," she whispered more urgently.
