I stood firmly in my study, staring at Clara as she paced frantically across the polished floor. After her desperate display at the gates, Alaric had reluctantly agreed to let her inside – but only under the watchful eyes of two guards posted at the door. My sister looked even more desperate in the morning light streaming through the windows, her bandaged face a stark reminder of what her late husband had done to her.
"You can't just let Mother hang," Clara pleaded, her voice cracking. "She's all I have left."
I leaned against my desk, one hand absently resting on my still-flat stomach. The nausea had returned, but I pushed it aside. "Lady Beatrix plotted multiple murders, Clara. She orchestrated Matteo's death. She tried to have me killed."
"She was desperate!" Clara's eyes were wild with fear. "Father always favored you, even with your..." she hesitated, gesturing vaguely toward my face.
"My scars?" I supplied coldly. "The ones you gave me?"
