The castle was silent.
Not the peaceful kind of silence.
The suffocating, heavy kind that pressed against the walls and made even the servants move quieter than usual.
A massive screen filled the far wall of King Edmond’s private sitting room.
On it, Ember. Alive.
Standing proud.
Crowned in everything but name.
Pathetic.
Queen Emerald sat perfectly straight on the velvet settee, hands folded in her lap so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Not a single hair of her polished crown of emerald waves moved out of place.
King Edmond stood.
He hadn’t sat once.
The broadcast replayed the moment Ember removed her wig.
Again. And again. And again.
Her orange curls spilled down her back. The crowd gasped. The announcer’s voice trembled with barely contained hysteria.
“-confirmed vi
