7

Yeri.

As I am pressed to my knees by two servants, my hands quiver and my entire body pulses with fear as I feel the air of the festivities change. I watched his eyes change into red fire, a fusion of his wolf and dragon bloodline. His chest quivered with every breath, muscles tensed beneath. Goblets of wine and platters of food fall to the ground as he steps away from the canopy.

Before him, I am trembling, a stark contrast to his own unwavering stance. My once defiant gaze now falters under the weight of his wrath, my breaths shallow as I await his judgment. There is complete silence in the court after I failed to kill him—I cannot explain how but my hands failed to work when I saw that despite the cut I made on his neck, King Ozar didn’t falter or show sign of pain.

“A slave raised a knife at me!?" His voice thundered through the space, resonating with the raw power of a storm at sea.

“Cut her face, your majesty…let her leave with the scar forever!”

“Beat her with a whip, your maje