{VICTORIA'S POV}
The throne room was a storm.
Voices crashed over one another, Lords and councilors shouting until their faces turned red, their robes swishing as they gestured, slammed fists on tables, and pointed accusing fingers into the air. It was deafening, a hundred different demands colliding into a wall of chaos. They all shouted to be heard, but I heard nothing.
Not really.
Their voices blurred, their words falling into an endless roar that dissolved into the background.
Because in my mind, I still saw it.
The flames — wild, impossible, blazing in colors of fire I've never seen. A storm of ruin devouring the square, swallowing men and stone alike. I still smelled the smoke, sharp and choking in my throat. The runes that carved themselves across the air. The wings of fire that unfurled from her back, stretching across the sky.
And above it all, the crown.
That cursed, blinding crown hovering above her head like the heavens themselves placed it there.
