Nora
A woman’s voice cut sharply through the tension. The guards wavered momentarily, uncertain, but they dared not halt the flogging without Clyde's command. He had just reminded them who ruled the palace, and they wouldn't risk defying him. The woman rushed forward, coming to an abrupt stop as she knelt before Clyde desperation written plainly in her eyes.
The woman was about my age, with steel-gray eyes gleaming beneath golden hair, a silver butterfly hairpin catching the light just so.
"Whoa, Beverly, no need to kneel," Clyde said, amusement lacing his voice with authority, though he didn't offer to help her rise.
"Please, Your Majesty, spare Barbara," the woman continued to plead. "You promised Colin you'd look after his sister!"
Clyde pinched the bridge of his nose, unimpressed.
