Olga was smiling. Her lips curved with a satisfaction she did not bother to hide. She looked like someone who had already won, like a cat watching a mouse trapped in a corner.
Lydia, on the other hand, was trembling. Her chest felt tight, her hands cold against the folds of her purple gown. She had dressed like a queen tonight, proud and untouchable, but now her strength was wavering under the heavy eyes of the senate. Every whisper, every sly look, every smirk pressed against her like a wall.
The senate members were satisfied. They believed they had her pinned. They could already taste victory, and the smugness in their faces made Lydia's heart pound harder.
Tatiana's uncle straightened with false righteousness and said, "Your Majesty, her Highness is dangerous to the Grand Duke and everyone around him. She needs to be dismissed. She needs to be investigated. She is practicing witc—"
"Enough!" Ivan's voice snapped through the room like a blade cutting through silence.
