The grand doors parted with a whisper of starlight, and Thalion stood waiting.
"His Majesty requests you come to the throne room," he said with a measured bow.
Sonna's brow furrowed in irritation, but she let out a slow breath and gave a single nod.
She had never been greeted by just an attendant before—usually, whether from whispers through the grapevine or the lies she spun in her letters, the Kings, Princes, or whoever she aimed for would be eager to meet her.
The thought of it all turned her stomach.
'After this... I aim bigger.... because I don't know how much longer... I can keep this up...'
It was a thought, that meant exactly as it sounded.
Imagine enduring constant torment for 17 years, forced to be someone else, to live a life that went against the very core of who you are. It was pure hell.
She had tried to end it many times but never found the courage—especially when thoughts of her sister or even Kale crossed her mind.
