It flashed in every face beyond the gates.
Milonia cursed her own recklessness—this need to protect the man she loved.
But it was too late. She was already here, and her sudden appearance had startled the crowd into silence.
“If it’s a liar you seek to punish,” she shouted, “look no further than right here.”
Dimitrios’s boot scraped the dry earth as he faced her. “What are you doing?”
Her heartbeat clawed at her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look at him.
Her father would never forgive her for this.
Neither would Dimitrios.
But she would outlive her father, and Dimitrios would be half a continent away once she was gone.
Milonia did this for one reason.
One person.
Her son.
Caius was the only one who mattered. He would be king one day, and she would stand at his side, knowing the title had been returned to their family honorably. And if the gods chose to keep things as they were, then Caius would still be Steward. He would know she’d done the right thing by the king he’d admired as a boy.
Behind her on the marble steps, Caius’s hair caught in the wind, and his eyes grew wide. Such an innocent expression now, when only moments ago, he’d offered a brave response to the crowd’s unease.
“I’ll tell them who I am,” Caius had said. “They’ll believe me. They’ll see he’s a good and honest king.”
So certain.
Too young to know that belief alone had never been enough.
“Milonia,” Dimitrios hissed, his voice almost buried by the rest. “Answer me.”
It took every ounce of her strength to stay the course. To ignore him. And when he took that step toward her, she let it push her away.
Still refusing to meet his eyes, she drew in a breath, preparing to speak over the crowd. They were quiet out of curiosity now—they wouldn’t be for long. Not without the right words to rein them in.
“I met with your queen many moons ago, here in secret,” she began, and the voices hushed further. “Queen Emanouella loved you, and she would have doneanythingto protect you. She was murdered for it.”
The people looked at one another, and when those in the back asked what had been said, the word spread. It didn’t have to make sense. They knew Emanouella had been murdered, but to this day, no one knew why or by whom.
“Before she died, your queen was gathering allies in secret and warning others who their true enemies were.”
Dimitrios stepped up to her too fast?—
She turned, braced for his hand. Braced to be dragged by the elbow from these gates.
But he only stared. “Milonia…” His throat bobbed on a deep swallow. “What are you doing?”
“Proving your innocence,” she said, then faced the Perean people again.
The whispers were building, too loud, and she had to raise her hands to quiet them. “Queen Emanouella knew awful truths about her daughter. Alexandra murdered the Crown Prince. She slaughtered her own nephews.”
The people roared. The sound was full of disbelief and rage.
Milonia held up her hands, begging for silence to continue. “Emanouella wanted better for you,” she shouted over the din, “and that’s why I, on behalf of my father, forged an alliance with your queen to take the throne from them.”
