About an hour before the trial, the palace felt heavy. The halls were filled with whispers, and even the servants walked more quietly than usual, as if they too feared what was about to happen.
Inside her chamber, Lydia stood in front of her tall mirror. The rays of the morning sun fell across her face, painting her skin with a soft glow. Her reflection stared back at her, but it did not look like a woman heading for judgment. She looked like a queen ready to step into a hall full of admirers.
She wore a royal purple gown, the color bold and commanding. The fabric hugged her waist tightly, the corset pulling her posture tall and proud. Diamonds glittered on her neck, her ears, her wrists, catching the fading light. Her hair was sleek, perfectly straight, not a single strand out of place. If someone walked into the room without knowing the truth, they would have thought she was preparing for a ball in her honor.
