"If not for him, I would slaughter you and watch you bleed until the very last drop left your cold, filthy body..." Rosalia held Agnia entirely at her mercy, her tight grip wrapped around her throat.
Rosalia knew Max needed Agnia alive to establish his dominance over the region and unify the people who had been scattered.
The progenitor had thrown the kingdom into confusion. It was as if an ancient god had risen again to punish them for their sins.
Children and mothers wept, while the men in the fields and mountains looked toward the castle with fear, worry, and the desperate hope that their queen would appear.
Yet to their despair, she would never appear as their queen again.
Agnia thrashed in Rosalia's grip, her gaze spewing venom. "Just kill me then. I will never be anyone's slave. I am—a proud, noble dragoness—"
A loud slap rang through the hall. A crimson imprint of Rosalia's palm flared across Agnia's delicate face.
