Azzurra drew in a slow, steady breath as she watched the two figures approach the King. The way he subtly straightened in his seat didn’t escape her notice.

She wasn’t supposed to look at them. But how could she not? She wanted no, needed to see the faces of the men who might end her life.

“Father,” one of them greeted coldly, a sneer tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes were tinged red, bloodshot, and the sluggish way he moved made him appear either drunk or freshly risen from ...