Fire Behind the Velvet

Lady Brenda

The court was still reeling. Though no one dared speak it aloud in the throne room, the whispers flooded the marble halls like poisoned wine.

The king had shown mercy.

Mercy... to her.

A slave. A branded girl with nothing but dirt in her blood and scars on her back. One who had defied tradition, ran from fate, and stood in the royal court like a trembling deer yet had somehow walked out alive.

Worse, she walked out favored.

Brenda’s grip ...