Without another word, Alaric turned his back to me, his voice carrying across the hall. “The meeting is over. Knox, escort her to her room.”
Knox. So that was his name.
My surprise must have shown because Alaric paused, his icy gaze cutting back to me briefly before he walked toward the exit. He didn’t wait for an objection, his broad shoulders disappearing into the corridor as though the matter had been decided and no further discussion was needed.
But apparently, Amira didn’t get the message.
“Wait!” Amira called out, stepping forward, her violet eyes flashing with outrage. “Your Majesty, you don’t understand. She’s my servant! How can she be Luna? She is nothing!”
Her words cut through the murmurs, drawing the attention of the remaining crowd. My fists clenched at my sides, but I kept my head low, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing my anger.
“She can’t—” Amira continued, her voice rising in pitch as she gestured toward me like I was some sort of blemish that needed removing. “She’s not qualified to stand as your Luna. She’s a troublemaker! A murderer!”
The last word sent a ripple through the room, but Alaric didn’t stop walking. He didn’t even turn around.
“Your Majesty,” Amira tried again, her voice desperate now, “she’s worthless. She can’t—”
“Enough.”
The single word, spoken in Alaric’s cold, commanding tone, froze her mid-sentence. Amira’s mouth snapped shut, her expression twisting into one of shocked indignation.
Without looking back, Alaric raised a hand dismissively. “You forget yourself, Amira. I don’t explain my decisions.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Amira stood there, her lips parted as though she wanted to protest further, but no sound came out.
Her reaction might have been pitiful if it weren’t so satisfying.
Knox, who had been watching the exchange with an amused expression, stepped forward. His gray eyes flicked to Amira briefly, and for a moment, I thought I saw a smirk tug at the corner of his lips.
Amira turned to him, her frustration boiling over. “You can’t seriously be entertaining this, Knox. She’s not even worth your time. She’ll—”
Knox raised a hand, cutting her off. His tone was calm but firm. “The king has given his orders.”
Amira’s face reddened, her jaw tightening as if she wanted to argue further, but she didn’t dare. She glared at me instead, her eyes burning with barely restrained fury.
“This isn’t over,” she hissed under her breath, her voice low enough that only I could hear. “You’ll regret this, sister.”
I didn’t reply.
Amira turned on her heel and stormed out of the hall, her dress swishing dramatically behind her.
The room felt lighter the moment she was gone.
Knox, who had been watching the entire exchange with an air of detached amusement, finally turned to me. He crossed the space between us in a few measured steps, his movements fluid and unhurried.
When he stopped in front of me, he tilted his head slightly, his gray eyes meeting mine with a glint of curiosity.
“Shall we?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, with a hint of dry humor that caught me off guard.
I blinked, unsure how to respond. This man, Knox—z as as enigmatic as the king himself, and yet, there was something in his tone that almost made me feel at ease.
Almost.
Without waiting for an answer, he gestured for me to follow him. “Your room isn’t going to find itself.”
I hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, my legs still trembling but my resolve unshaken. As I walked behind him, the whispers started again, the voices of the crowd following me like ghosts.
But I kept my head high.
Let them talk.
