Damon
The guards opened the chamber doors without a word, and Ella swept in like she’d been given a choice in the matter.
Her gown was pearl-colored silk, too fine for a war room and too soft for the cruelty she carried. Her hair was pinned with mother-of-pearl combs, her lips curved in a smile I would take pleasure in breaking.
She dipped a shallow curtsy. “Your Majesty.”
I didn’t return the greeting.
“Close the doors,” I said, eyes never leaving her. “No one comes in.”
The guards obeyed. The latch clicked shut with finality.
Ella’s smile didn’t falter, but I saw the flicker of tension in her shoulders. Good.
I stood behind the oak table like it was a battlefield map and she was the last enemy standing on it.
“You’re not here for pleasantries,” I said.
“Of course not.” She a
