Hazel’s POV
Martha was already on her knees the second I opened the door.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her hands were clasped so tight in her lap that her knuckles looked white against her pale skin. She looked small—smaller than I’d ever seen her—and the sight of it made something twist painfully in my chest even though I was furious.
“I’m sorry, my queen,” she whispered. Her voice cracked on every word. “I’m so sorry. I was worried about you. That’s why I lied.”
I stared down at her.
Anger burned hot in my throat, but underneath it was exhaustion—bone-deep, soul-deep exhaustion from last night. From the heat. From Nicholas. From everything.
“I told you,” I said slowly, “to make sure Nicholas doesn't enter my room. I told you to block the door. Instead you sent every guard away a
