Lucy’s POV
The eerie silence pressed on my ears until they rang, making me dizzy. Kenneth’s warm hand anchored me in place, but the tension in my chest grew heavier by the second. My pulse quickened, anxiety spiking as I searched the King’s stern face for some sign of acceptance—or rejection.
When he spoke at last, his voice was deep, commanding, and far more intimidating than I had prepared myself for.
“Welcome to our Kingdom, Lucy. Are you of the Fosters from the Northern Kingdom?”
Relief washed over me in a breathless wave. At least he was speaking, not dismissing me outright. “No, Your Majesty. I’m from the South,” I replied, trying to sound calm though my hands trembled slightly at my sides. Wasn't the Northern Kingdom where that witch Patricia came from? Are they somehow acquaint
