The smell of blood lingered.
Thick. Metallic. Unavoidable.
It curled through the vast throne hall like a living thing, settling into silk gowns and embroidered sleeves, staining the air with a reminder no one could ignore.
The maid's body had been removed but the stain remained, a dark pool soaking into white marble. Permanent.
Like the message Sebastian had just delivered.
Aliena's hands were still trembling.
She stood beside him on the raised platform, though she could no longer feel her legs properly. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out the whispers that rippled faintly through the court.
She had tried to stop him.
He had not listened.
And that terrified her almost as much as the execution itself.
Sebastian did not release her.
One hand remained firmly at her waist.
Not gentle.
Not loose.
Firm.
Anchoring.
Claiming.
The court noticed.
Every noble saw the way he held her.
Not as a guest.
Not as a political ally.
As something that belonged to him.
