As Damien's fist drew back, a hand gripped his wrist, stopping him midair.
I turned, breath caught in my throat.
It was the King.
"What is going on here?" His voice was low, but sharp — the kind that slices silence.
Damien looked stunned, then furious. “Is it not this—”
“Stop.” The King’s voice cracked like a whip. “No goat in this palace. Speak with sense.”
Damien yanked his arm free and swept his hand across the table. Glass shattered, food spilled, and the tension in the room burst open. Without another word, he stormed out, thundering up the stairs. A distant crash followed. A wall, maybe.
I stood frozen, hands clenched, heart pounding.
Precious pulled me by the wrist, guiding me back to the kitchen.
“All this chaos is because of you,” she muttered. “And yet… the princess was
