Silas flinched as if Diego had struck him across the face. The promise in Diego’s words hung in the vaulted foyer, loud enough to make the surrounding High Council guards freeze in place, their hands hovering near their sidearms.
Silas’s eyes flicked nervously from Diego’s latter's frame down to where the hand remained firmly planted on my hip. His knuckles turned white against his tunic.
"Ophelia, look at me," Silas pleaded, taking a step sideways to bypass Diego’s shoulder. "You can't let him do this. You're a Scarlet. You belong at Silver Crest, on the throne beside me—not acting as some conqueror's prize in a border pack!"
A grim laughter bubbled up from my throat before I could stop it. I stepped forward from behind Diego, sending a glare to Silas, though the phantom ache over my c
