Eliana forces herself to hold eye contact with Prince Drake. His demeanor is intimidating as he towers over her, a shadow casting over his features, hiding any inclination on what he is thinking.
“He is most likely pondering on how to kill me," she hisses in her mind.
There is a low murmur in the crowd of Climont soldiers, metal clanking as they return their swords to their scabbards. Eliana wonders if they have just returned from a battle.
“Who has harmed her," Drake's question causes a hesitation in Eliana's mind. His brow furrows even farther as he turns to those who kidn*pped her. “I asked, who laid their hands on her."
One of the men, the one that she head butted, steps forward, his gaze refusing to leave the ground. His face is painted with a dark bruise that expands from his nos
