LUCIEN
I stared at the smear of dried blood across my knuckles—Evelara’s blood, with its bitter memory. It clung to me, not even real anymore, yet my hand flexed as though I could cast it away.
The trial is now over. The hall was dismissed. The whispers were momentarily silenced. And yet I could still hear them—nobles muttering venom, courtiers dripping suspicion, Leonel’s voice sharp in my ear: ‘She is not worthy. She is dangerous.’
Yet, now they're all silenced. I had silenced them the only way I knew how. A public trial…
Words had no value in Valtherion. People here are judgmental, they tend to look for proof, kindness is a weakness to them, and they're not blamed for that. Once you're kind, you'd be stabbed in a way that would ruin you. And as the ruler of Valtherion, I'v
