I turned to leave, my heels clicking sharply on the stone steps, ready to walk away from this scene of victory. But then Nicholas’s hand shot out, grabbing mine in a vise-like grip. His fingers were hot, rough, pulling me back.
“Hazel—” he started, his voice low and urgent, like he was about to drag me away right there.
Before he could finish, the air shifted. Suddenly, we were surrounded. The men and women from the courtyard closed in, forming a tight circle around us. Their faces were hard, determined, eyes locked on Nicholas like he was the enemy. The tension skyrocketed, my heart pounding in my throat. One wrong word, and blood could spill right here on these steps.
Nicholas looked around, his grip on my hand tightening involuntarily. “Have you all lost your mind? I am your king!”
