Katia sat on the edge of her small bedroom bed, hands clasped tightly.
She was waiting.
After that afternoon's scene, when Cahir had taken her away in front of everyone, defended her, asked her why she didn't fight back—in that moment, a spark of hope had ignited in Katia's heart.
He cares.
Even if he said she was just a mistress, even if he said she betrayed him, his actions gave him away. He cared that she was hit, cared that she was humiliated.
That was enough.
In this palace where everyone wanted her dead, she needed exactly this—someone who cared. As long as Cahir still felt something for her—even anger, even possessiveness—she had a chance to survive.
Katia's hand unconsciously touched the mark on her neck. The mark that brought her pain and humiliation, but wa
