For a fleeting second, the grand Queen of the Crimson Realm—the violent storm that had just carved a path of blood through the palace corridors—simply froze.
The heavy execution sword slipped from Evangeline's numb, blood-caked fingers. It hit the marble floor with a dull, hollow clatter that echoed uselessly in the cold room, but she didn't even hear it.
Her eyes remained wide, frozen in absolute shock as she stared at the motionless figure on the bed.
"Silver...?" she murmured, her voice stripped of all its royal authority, sounding smaller and more fragile than it ever had before.
He didn't move. He didn't blink. He didn't offer a dramatic bow or a sharp, sarcastic jest to mock her messy appearance.
