(Janelle POV)
The guards' hands bit into my arms like iron shackles as they dragged me through the castle corridors. My feet barely touched the stone floor as they hauled me forward, their grip so tight I could feel bruises forming under my sleeves. Every step echoed in the empty hallways like a death march.
"Please," I whispered to the guard on my left, a man I'd served wine to countless times. "What's happening? What have I done?"
He didn't look at me, his eyes fixed straight ahead as if I were already a ghost. The other guard spat on the floor beside my feet.
"Shut your mouth, witch," he growled. "Save your lies for the king."
Witch. The word hit me like a physical blow. My heart hammered against my ribs as we approached the great hall. Through the massive oak doors, I could hear the murmur of voices, dozens of them, maybe hundreds. Whatever was about to happen, King Magnus had made sure it would have an audience.
