[Imperial Palace—Lavinia's Pov—continuation]
My heart skipped a beat.
"W-what do you mean Osric is injured?!" The words flew from my lips before I could stop them. My feet were already moving, skirts tangling around me as I rushed to the training field.
The sight that greeted me froze my blood.
Osric lay on the ground, clutching his right arm. His palm was smeared with blood, dripping steadily through his fingers. His face twisted in pain as he still stared bravely up at Caelum.
And Caelum—he stood over him. Sword in hand. The blade was still wet, a crimson bead sliding down its edge. His expression was unreadable. Cold. Too cold.
I forced myself to walk forward, spine rigid, chin high—definitely not panicking (I was panicking)—but I was a princess. I had to maintain my composure and could not show weakness.
"What," I demanded, my voice sharper than steel, "is going on here?"
