Trial

Leon took me to the interrogation room, its stone walls damp and cold, lined with iron shackles that glinted dully in the flickering candlelight. As I looked around at all the convicts in custody—their heads bowed, their clothes tattered, fear etched into every line of their faces—I suddenly regretted having told him about the poisoning. His grave expression, jaw set tight, told me that something dark and terrible was about to happen. “Considering that you will be my queen in the future, I hope you will study hard during this trial. Don’t speak, just watch,” Leon spoke to me in an irresistible tone, his voice low and sharp as a blade. His eyes were cold and unfeeling, covered with frost, as if the warmth he’d shown me on the terrace had never existed. My wolf, Shirley, was jumping with excitement in the back of my mind, her thoughts a jumble of snarls and anticipation for the next show. I stood quietly behind Leon, my hands clasped tightly in front of me, trying not to let her bloodlus