Chapter 133 - The Raven's Last Stand, A Queen's Justice

The palace dungeons were colder than I expected. Moisture clung to the gray stone walls, and the dim torchlight cast long shadows that danced like specters with every flicker of flame. I stood next to Alaric, his arm brushing mine, the only warmth in this grim place.

Silas Blackwood sat chained to the wall across from us. Even in defeat, with blood crusted on his temple and his fine clothes in tatters, he maintained an air of arrogant disdain. His silver hair hung limply around his gaunt face, but his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—remained sharp and watchful.

"You're wasting your time," he said, his voice echoing in the damp cell. "I have nothing to tell you."

Alaric stepped forward, his injured side causing him to favor his left leg slightly. The royal physician had bandaged him, but I knew the wound still pained him greatly. Yet it was nothing compared to the pain I saw in his eyes whenever he looked at me—pain for my loss, for my grief.