I don't remember deciding to move.
One second I was trembling in the corridor.
The next—
I was shoving forward.
"Milady—!"
The guards grabbed for me again, but panic had become stronger than reason.
Stronger than fear.
Stronger than pride.
I tore free and ran.
My heartbeat thundered so violently I could barely hear anything else.
Not the guards shouting behind me.
Not my own footsteps.
Only one thought.
I have to tell him first.
The council doors loomed ahead.
Massive.
Ancient.
Terrifying.
And from the narrow opening between them, voices spilled out.
I stopped just short of the entrance.
Breathing hard.
Listening.
Inside, dozens of nobles sat arranged in rows.
The Everfrost elders.
The provincial Dukes.
The council.
An execution disguised as a meeting.
At the center sat Draven.
Still.
Silent.
One arm resting against the chair.
Dark eyes fixed forward.
Watching.
Waiting.
Unreadable.
And standing before everyone—
Stephen.
Calm.
Elegant.
Smiling.
