Fifty-seven years old. Distinguished-looking. Perfectly composed in an expensive suit. Looking nothing like the monster who'd murdered her parents. Looking like a statesman. A leader.
But Emily knew better.
Marcus walked toward the platform, flanked by security, his expression cold and controlled.
Emily's security detail immediately formed a tighter perimeter around her. Ming Li's hand went to her weapon. Timothy moved closer, protective instinct overwhelming everything else.
But Emily stood her ground. Watching Marcus approach. The man who'd murdered her parents. Who'd stolen her throne. Who'd tried to kill her.
He stopped ten meters from the platform, looking up at her with something that might have been admiration or might have been contempt.
