"She bears the witch's blood," someone jeered, their voice dripping with venom. "Burn her too!"
"She's her spawn! Witches breed witches!" another shouted, a chorus of agreement rising like a tide.
"Better to end the line now!" a noblewoman called, her silk fan snapping shut with a flick of her wrist, her lips curled in disdain.
Kiara's eyes widened in horror, her small body shrinking against the servant as fingers pointed her way, accusing, damning.
Her breath hitched, her sobs turning to panicked gasps, her little hands clutching the servant's arm so tightly her nails drew blood.
Lord Silverward's voice thundered, shaking the balcony, silencing the mob with a single word:
"Enough!" His hand slammed the railing, the wood creaking under the force, his aura sparking faintly with restrained magic, a glimpse of the power he rarely showed.
