Demian reached outer courtyard of the palace as if it belonged to him—it did, of course, after sending Lord Heartstone to the dungeon. Everything he had, now, was his. The masses of people were waiting for him, huddled against each other and anxiously muttering. As he towered over them on the slop, they halted. A thick duvet of silence wrapped them under it as the young Prince let his eyes wander over them. Their faces had little hopes as he made them to spread the rumor that their future king would save them. How wrong they were. But it helped him to gather them here as he had sent his men to fuel their anger. Seraphina's brows raised questioningly but he had no time to answer it now. He could feel the anger accumulating inside of her as he hadn't said anything about it to Seraphina.

