Sara's POV.
I shoved my hands deeper into my coat pockets as I walked through the stone corridor, the damp chill of the dungeon clinging to my skin like anthoer layer.
Beside me, one of the pack guards kept pace, his boots echoing against the cold walls. The air smelled of mildew and iron, thick enough to make my throat tighten with every breath.
I couldn't shake the anger bubbling inside me. I had spent the entire morning replaying the maid's confession, her trembling voice and downcast eyes.
She’d claimed she stole the seer’s ornament, but I knew better. I knew who the real thief was. Morgan. My stepsister. My murderer in my past life.
My hands curled into fists in my pockets. The maid had taken the blame to protect her, and it wasn’t hard to guess why.
Morgan had a way of twis
