I don’t knock. I don’t announce myself. I slam both hands against the doors, and they crash open with a deafening sound.
“STEP AWAY FROM MY MATE!”
The roar tears from my throat with such primal wrath that several nobles stumble backward. My eyes sweep the massive room, taking in the scene before me, and pure rage explodes through my chest.
Astra is kneeling on the marble floor in the center of the vast throne room. Blood streaks down her back, soaking through the torn remnants of her dress. Her shoulders shake with each labored breath, but her spine stays straight—defiant even in agony.
A guard is poised behind her, his arm raised high. One of Zari’s men, judging by the house colors on his uniform. He freezes mid-strike when he sees me, the whip trembling in his grasp.
And there she i
