Chapter 32
Elara’s POV
The echo of Lucien’s words still rang in the vaulted chamber: “You will not touch her.”
A threat. A promise. A line drawn in gold and blood.
The silence that followed was jagged, broken only by the scrape of boots as the nobles adjusted their stances, by the hiss of whispers meant to sway allies. The weight of their stares pressed against me as though I were being judged on an invisible scale.
I had expected disbelief. I had expected laughter, scorn. I had braced for venom.
But what I had not expected was this stillness. This dreadful, dangerous pause.
They were listening.
Lucien stepped back onto the dais and gestured toward the steward at the edge of the chamber. The man hurried forward, clutching a leather-bound ledger and a folded parchment sealed in wax.
