Iris's POV
The crowd's hands are relentless, clawing at my arms, my shoulders, my back, as they drag me through the courtyard, cheering to Darius's declaration. Their fingers dig into my skin, bruising, and I stumble over the cobblestones, my bare feet scraping against the cold, jagged edges. The night air bites at my exposed skin where my dress is torn, the fabric flapping loosely at my sleeve.
Their voices rise around me, a cacophony of hatred, chanting, "Behead her! Behead the curse!" The words pound in my ears. My chest tightens, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as I try to twist free, but there are too many of them. Their faces blur into a sea of snarling mouths and wild, accusing eyes. This people had no pity on me!
