Evangeline stared at Silver, a fleeting smirk of sheer satisfaction tugging at the corner of her lips before she strictly wiped it away. As much as she thoroughly relished the public humiliation of Lucian, a cold dread coiled in her gut.
She was acutely aware that Silver was dancing on the edge of a blade—words like his, dropped so casually in the imperial presence, could get his head severed here and now. She opened her mouth to command her chaotic jester to step back, to force a rein on his unhinged tongue.
But she was a second too late.
A heavy crystal chalice flew violently through the warm air of the hall, cutting a sharp trajectory toward the center stage.
Driven by blind, humiliated rage, Lucian had hurled the glass with every ounce of his remaining, trembling strength. It struck Silver directly in the forehead with a sickening crack, shattering instantly into a dozen sharp, glinting shards that rained down onto the marble floor.
