CHAPTER 80
The transition was jarring. The damp, cramped room dissolved into the high, vaulted grandeur of the throne room.
But the air here was no longer filled with the scent of incense and royalty; it felt heavy, stagnant, and thick with the smell of a brewing execution.
Isabella stumbled as she appeared in the center of the hall, her heart stopping at the sight before her.
This wasn't just a private family matter. The King sat upon his throne, his face a mask of disappointment and cold fury.
But surrounding him was a sea of faces—advisors in heavy velvet robes, stern-faced lords of the high council, and commanders of the royal guard.
Every eye in the room was fixed on the entrance. The doors groaned open, and the guards didn't just walk Bella in—they threw her.
