The heavy wooden doors of the Great Hall closed again. Lord Colton was gone. The room was tense, waiting for the final and most important judgment.
The Chancellor unrolled the longest scroll of parchment. His hands shook slightly. He cleared his throat. Everyone in the massive stone room leaned forward. Even the air seemed to stand still.
"Bring forth the prisoner," the King commanded. His voice was tired and full of sorrow.
The side doors opened. Six heavily armored royal guards marched in. In the center of their formation was Prince Liam.
Liam looked nothing like a royal prince today. His fine clothes were stripped away, replaced by a simple, dirty gray prisoner's tunic. Heavy iron chains wrapped around his wrists, his waist, and his ankles. His hair was a wild, tangled mess. The bruise on his cheek was dark purple and yellow. His eyes, still slightly red from the powder Marissa had blown into them, darted around the room frantically.
