~Serah POV~
"Why should we waste more time on her?" one of the Council elders hissed, his fangs glistening with fresh blood. "She's a traitor's mate, carrying an heir she doesn't deserve."
"I am not a traitor!" I snapped before I could stop myself. My voice rang through the chamber, too loud, too sharp, every pair of red eyes turning toward me.
Tristan groaned under his breath. "Serah, stop."
"No," I bit out, glaring at them even though my legs trembled under the weight of my swollen belly. "I will not be silent while they slander me."
Lydia's laugh and sat close to Jethro, dressed in crimson silk that clung to her body, her goblet filled with blood. "How noble and foolish, still playing the victim when you crawled into Tristan's arms behind your husband's back."
"That's a lie," I shouted, voice cracking. "I never—"
Tristan slammed his hand against the table. "Enough, Lydia." His voice was lethal.
