By sunrise, everyone knew my name.
Not the way they had known it before.
Not as the cursed girl who had survived an execution.
Not as the last Moon Weaver.
This time, they knew me as a murderer.
I stood at the tall window of my chamber, staring down at the courtyard.
People were gathering outside the fortress gates.
Hundreds of them.
Some carried torches.
Others held pieces of parchment above their heads.
Even from this distance, I could see the words written across them.
MURDERER.
My stomach twisted.
I stepped away from the window.
"No."
The word barely left my lips.
I had seen death.
I had faced it.
I had watched wolves turn against me.
But this felt different.
Because this time, they weren't accusing me of being cursed.
They were accusing me of killing a child.
A c
