“WHAT gracious are you spouting with your filthy mouth?!”
The furious scream echoed from Anastasia’s chamber, loud enough to reach the corridor. When Noxton pushed open the door, his eyes widened at the sight before him— a woman he recognized all too well was violently pulling at Anastasia’s hair. Rage surged through him like wildfire. He stormed forward and tore the woman’s hand away from his mother.
“Y–Your Grace! W-Why are you here?” the woman stammered.
Noxton immediately tended to his trembling mother before turning a cold, venomous glare toward the woman now kneeling on the floor.
“Imprison this woman.” His voice left no room for appeal.
Two guards seized her by the arms.
“Y-Your Majesty, please have mercy! Forgive my ignorance — I beg you!”
Noxton stepped closer, his gaze icy
