The King sat upon his throne at the far end of the hall. Ravić's father, safely cloaked in shadow and gold, his face carved from cold, unyielding stone. His gaze swept over me once, sharp as a blade, before landing on his son. The faint gleam of his crimson eyes hardened, a silent warning that chilled the air between us.
Ravić turned, guiding me to face the sea of onlookers. My gaze searched instinctively through the crowd, but Angelo was nowhere to be found. The hollow in my chest deepened, a strange mix of relief and guilt, twisting together until I could barely draw breath.
Rayna was there, though. Standing near the dais, regal and still, her gown a deep shade of crimson that matched the red glint in her eyes. A crown of black metal rested on her blond hair, a reminder of her bloodline, her power.
Her eyes met mine, steady and knowing. There was something in it I couldn't name. Pity, perhaps. Or warning.
