The roar of the crowd was a physical force, a wave of sound that hit me the moment I stepped out of the black sedan. It was the sound of a thousand prayers being answered, the culmination of a thousand lies. To them, tonight was a coronation. To me, it was an execution.
The red silk of my dress whispered against my skin, a stark and violent contrast to the sea of dark suits and muted campaign colors. Arthur’s security detail, men with hard eyes and wires in their ears, formed a phalanx around me, guiding me through the throng. They saw a fragile, beautiful prop being delivered to the stage. They had no idea they were escorting a bomb.
“*Stage right, twenty seconds to entry. He’s about to introduce you,*” Julian’s voice, a calm, tinny whisper in my earpiece, was the only thing anchoring m
