The trial had ended for the day, but no verdict had been given. The air inside the royal court remained thick with tension, the whispers of nobles lingering long after they had left their seats.
Eleanor stood frozen in place, her fists clenched at her sides as she watched the council members file out, their expressions unreadable.
Her father had defended himself with unwavering dignity, yet it didn't seem to matter. The so-called "evidence" they had presented was nothing more than a carefully woven web of lies, designed to trap him. It was frustrating—infuriating. The truth was right in front of them, yet they refused to see it.
Beside her, Duchess Aveline was too devastated to move. She clutched Eleanor's arm as if afraid she would collapse if she let go. Her mother had barely eaten in days, her once-bright eyes now dull with exhaustion and sorrow.
