Emma
The moment the door shut behind us, my resolve began to crack.
Not all at once, but the way ice did when the temperature shifted and you didn’t notice until your foot slipped.
The meeting with the kings had gone better than my nightmares had allowed for. They hadn’t laughed. They hadn’t dismissed me. They’d listened. They’d argued like men who took the stakes seriously. They’d agreed that tomorrow the Council would hear both claimants, that there would be process, scrutiny, facts.
It should have steadied me.
Instead, it planted a new kind of fear—one that didn’t come from the outside world, but from the quiet, relentless voice in my own head.
What if they don’t believe you?
What if she’s more convincing?
What if she looks more like what they want?
The questions followed me do
