Elara
The dungeon smelled of damp stone and rot. I could feel it even from where I stood above, high in the council chambers, because whispers of what Isabella was doing there had already reached me. Her name slid through the halls like a shadow, carrying with it a weight of both pity and disgust.
But inside those dark walls, Isabella was not silent.
She was weaving threads again, threads of lies and promises, trying to twist the hearts of those too young, too foolish, or too weak to resist.
I heard it first from one of the elder guards, his eyes full of unease when he spoke to me.
“She’s been speaking to the boy on night duty, my lady. Sweet words, soft words… words that don’t belong in a prison cell.”
I only nodded, but inside me, my stomach turned. Icy venom. That was what Isabell
