Elara’s POV
“Is it true?”
The warmth of his jacket still clung to my shoulders, but his voice had turned to iron. Cold. Judicial. The voice of a monarch demanding testimony from the accused.
I turned to face him.
His dark gold eyes held no trace of the man who had just shielded me. No trace of the possessive warmth that had pulled me against his chest moments ago. He stood like a statue carved from winter stone—jaw locked, shoulders squared, every line of his body radiating imperial authority.
The mate bond pulsed between us. Frantic. Confused. I could feel it reaching for him, desperate to bridge the chasm that had opened in the space of a single breath.
He didn’t reach back.
“Answer me, Elara.” His gaze cut through the murmurs of the watching nobles. “Was Gareth the father of your
