Elara's pov

It was all anyone could talk about.

The headless guard. The pools of blood staining the stone floor of the barracks. The lingering whispers that followed me like an echo down every corridor.

Did you hear? It was because of her.

The king killed for her.

Maybe she’s his whore.

No, she must be a witch. Cursed. Or lucky depending on how you see it.

I wasn’t lucky.

And I most certainly wasn’t a witch.

I could still feel the ghost heat of his eyes on my skin. That night, ...