Page 40 of Song of the Heart Scale
We both turned.
Jacob stood just beyond the garden archway, blinking rapidly as he took in the wreckage. His eyes found Damien still kneeling before me and widened.
“You’re not... I thought Crown Prince Thorne was with you!”
“He was,” I said. “He’s gone now.”
“Gone?” Jacob frowned. “I heard shouting. I came as soon as I could. I—” He glanced around at the garden’s rubble and back at Damien again, clearly trying to work out if he was allowed to be here. “Father has requested your presence. Urgently.”
Damien slowly stood, the shift in his posture immediate. Guarded. Ready.
“You heard shouting, yet you’re justnowcoming to check on your sister?” he asked skeptically.
“Damien…” I gripped the sleeve of his shirt to stop him.
Jacob glared at him. “I do not need to explain myself toyou, of all people, but if you must know, our father stopped me. He said…” Jacob looked at me nervously, almost as if he didn’t want to say what Zacharia had said.
“What did he say, Jacob?” I pushed.
He gulped. “He said Crown Prince Thorne had every right to discipline you and we shouldn’t get involved.”
Damien scoffed and laughed. “Right.”
“Father of the Year,” I mumbled and scratched the side of my head. “Whatever. Where is he?”
“Dining hall.”
“Lead the way.” I stepped past Damien to follow Jacob, when Damien gently gripped my arm.
“You’re not going alone,” he insisted.
Jacob opened his mouth to argue, hesitated for just a moment, then nodded. “Alright. But be careful. He’s... not in a forgiving mood.”
“Is he ever?” I muttered.
Damien reached for my elbow, steadying me. “Let’s get this over with.”
I nodded, casting one last glance over the ruined garden. Whatever was waiting behind those doors couldn’t be worse than what had just stormed out.
But then again... this was Elaria.
And I wasn’t sure anything was off the table anymore.
9
DAMIEN
The doors to the dining hall loomed ahead, tall and dark like the gates of a silent execution chamber. I walked just behind Cat, her steps unflinching even with the bruises blooming along her jaw. The scorch mark at the hem of her torn dress hadn’t gone unnoticed. Neither had the blood on her split lip. But she carried herself like a queen—a little battered, maybe, but not broken.
She didn’t speak as the guards opened the doors for us.
Lord Zacharia was waiting.
He stood at the far end of a long dining table with his arms folded behind his back, his posture as stiff and elegant as ever. His cool eyes swept over Cat the moment she stepped through—and the corner of his mouth twitched.
It wasn’t a smile. It was a smirk.
“Well,” he said smoothly. “I see the Crown Prince left his mark.”
