Theron's face was carved from granite, his eyes dark with a fury I'd rarely witnessed in all our years of friendship. Blood pooled beneath Jocelyn's severed hand, her screams still ringing in my ears as she clutched the bloody stump to her chest.
"Get a physician," I ordered one of the guards. "Stop the bleeding. She's no use to us dead."
The king's head snapped toward me, incredulity flashing across his features. "You show her mercy after what she did to Isabella?"
"Not mercy," I corrected, my voice cold enough to freeze flame. "Practicality. We need her testimony against Finchley."
Understanding dawned on Theron's face. He nodded curtly, then turned back to the sobbing woman. "You'll live long enough to see Lord Gideon's head roll from his shoulders. Consider that my gift to you."
Jocelyn shuddered, her face ashen from pain and blood loss. "Please... my sister..."
