Varos’s forced confession still hung heavily in the freezing morning air of the courtyard like thick, acrid smoke after a devastating warehouse fire.
No one dared to move a muscle. Not the elite vanguard of Urella, whose silver-trimmed shields suddenly felt far too heavy to lift. Not the common villagers of Elias, who had crowded into the muddy thoroughfare to witness history. Not even the veteran town guards, whose calloused hands still gripped spears and longbows they no longer seemed entirely certain they had a legal right to employ. Every single eye remained fixed entirely on Azaliyah. She stood unyielding over the broken man who had cast her out into the harsh elements only days prior, Aurora’s glowing edge humming millimeters from his exposed throat, liquid violet light spilling dow
