Elara's pov

The whispers started before I even reached the main corridor.

I kept my chin tucked, shoulders hunched, trying to make myself smaller as I navigated the stone hallways. My fingers worried at the collar of my dress, tugging it higher over the bruises circling my throat like a necklace of violence.

It didn't help. Nothing could hide the purple-black fingerprints pressed into my skin.

"Did you see her neck?"

"King must've—"

"—probably deserved it—"

The voices ...