“LADY Thalia has recovered from the poisoning — with the help of the Emperor.”
The words echoed like a stone dropped into still water.
The tall man delivering the report stood respectfully in Duke Noxton’s study, his posture straight, his tone neutral. Yet the weight of the message struck harder than intended. Noxton’s quill halted mid-sentence, the ink bleeding into the parchment beneath his hand. He didn’t even notice it. His grip tightened slowly, and the ink began to blot, spreading like a shadow.
The Emperor?
The thought struck him like a blow. Why would the Emperor involve himself so personally in Thalia?
His Thalia — no, not his anymore — was a divorced woman, cast aside by society’s cruel standards. And yet here she was, receiving the direct attention of the most powerful man
