Their eyes locked. And that was it.
They moved toward each other instinctively. Her hand still gripped the parchment, but her other hand reached for him.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, breath shaking with guilt she didn't want to admit.
"It's not your fault."
"No, it is. I should have been more careful." Her shoulders trembled, just a little.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "We are going to be fine."
He said it so easily, so confidently, and yet she felt the worry coiled beneath it. She knew him too well. The guilt in his gaze betrayed him. She had become the target—and by extension, so had he.
"How bad is this going to be? If I am put on trial?"
Damien's hands wrapped gently around her arms. "You are the queen." His words were laced with caution. "Your trial cannot be in the public court. It will be in the Council. Everything depends on who stands beside you. It depends on the people on your side,"
