The air in the throne room grew heavier as the courtiers held their breath. Lilian's announcement had silenced even the whispers that usually lingered in such gatherings.
The Queen Dowager leaned slightly forward on her seat, her eyes sharp as blades. "Lucien Blackthorne," she said, her voice carrying through the hall, "and Liora Miral. If you are to stand as more than discarded shadows, then prove it. The kingdom cannot afford weaklings bound by convenience. I will see for myself what worth you carry."
Lucien's jaw tensed, but he remained calm, his gaze never wavering from hers. Liora's fingers curled in her sleeves, her pulse quickening.
At Lilian's signal, the great doors of the hall opened. Two armored knights entered, dragging forward a figure bound in chains. The man's hair was matted, his clothes torn, but there was still defiance in his eyes.
Liora gasped softly when she recognized him.
"It cannot be…" she whispered.
