Scarlett's breath came in short, ragged gasps. Her wide, frantic eyes darted between Heinz's convulsing body and Lucius, who was shouting for the knights. Her hands trembled violently, fingers curling and uncurling as if she were trying to grasp onto reality itself.
The dining hall felt suffocating—walls pressing in, the air thick and stifling. The scattered colors from the stained glass windows were too sharp, too bright, their vibrance almost mocking.
Florian had seen fear before. The princesses always feared accidentally killing the king. But the fear in Scarlett's eyes was different.
It was almost enough to make him forget his hatred for her. Almost.
'She looks like she's about to pass out.'
Scarlett let out a strangled gasp, stumbling back as if the ground beneath her had suddenly turned to water. Her heel caught against the polished floor, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed she would collapse.
Then—something shifted.
