Emmanuelle's body trembled as she paused, the dreadful memory flooding her mind once more. She fought to contain the rising fear that gnawed at her insides.
Lady Maris, sensing her struggle, gently grasped Emmanuelle's hand, offering silent strength.
The mere thought of what the servant had described had been enough to shake Lady Maris to her core—she could barely fathom what it must have been like for Emmanuelle, who had witnessed it all firsthand.
"While gathering the materials for the ritual, I also created a talisman to protect Her Majesty from evil," Emmanuelle continued, her voice unsteady. "But after she became pregnant, the Queen no longer saw a need for it. She believed she had already secured what she desired."
Emmanuelle's gaze faltered. In truth, she had never been certain the talisman would work, not against something as dark as the spirit that had come for Queen Isolde.
