"That woman broke into my chambers with her daughter all tarted up like an offering," Ian insisted, his voice gaining strength as he found the opportunity he needed to seize control of the narrative with the kind of accusations that had served him well in the Lothian Court for decades. "She tried saying anything she could to make it seem like she was my late Aunt Caitlin, but even if she was, who's to say this demon whore is really a Hanrahan at all?"
Ian's eyes swept across the crowd, meeting the gazes of men he knew would understand his position. Men like Sir Thorryn with a noble name to defend, or Cossot's father Gaius, with the fortune he'd built over decades spent perfecting his craft as one of the most skilled whitesmiths in the march. Men who knew the threat that a poisonous woman could present to their reputations and their wealth.
