The moment I saw Eamon standing over Hadrian’s fallen form, my heart stopped. My King lay on the ground, his body drenched in blood from multiple deep gashes across his chest, shoulders, and arms. A cold dread gripped me as I rushed into the arena, halting at its center. The weight of countless eyes fell upon me, but I hardly noticed. My breath hitched, and hot tears streaked down my cheeks.

Eamon let out a low growl and motioned for two nearby guards to remove me. He should have known better ...