"We had proof that the Princess was killed by Her Majesty…" The old man's words cut through the murmur of the room like a shard of ice. I felt a sudden, unsought jolt—a mix of shock and incredulity that left my heart momentarily frozen under the weight of such an accusation.
I could hardly believe my ears when I thought, Proof that I killed Laura? A bitter laugh welled within me. How absurd it was that they would dare suggest such a thing in these dire circumstances. They wanted me to believe I was the murderer of my own flesh and blood, and the very idea seemed a cruel joke.
"Bring that evidence," I commanded, my voice steady with defiant confidence. In my mind, there was no possible link between this fabricated charge and the very real, beating heart of Laura. How could anyone claim her death when she still lived among us?