Leona's POV
The hall was too bright.
Torchlight flickered across the stone walls, throwing familiar and unfamiliar faces into shifting shadow. I could feel their gazes—fixed on me, scrutinizing, curious, some tinged with barely concealed schadenfreude.
Too many eyes.
My father leaned forward beside me, clearly preparing to speak—to "explain" on my behalf, or bow his head for me.
No.
It couldn't be like this.
I drew a deep breath and forced myself to stand straight. My fingers curled instinctively, nails biting into my palms.
You can do this, Leona.
I told myself silently.
This wasn't the first time I'd defied an order, nor the first time I'd stood my ground like this. My pride wouldn't allow me to bow my head now, wouldn't let me take back what I'd already said.
But the problem
