Amelia’s povThe cold steel of the handcuffs wasn’t as as painful as the look in Anastasia’s eyes.I stood in the center of the Council Chamber, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and the metallic tang of betrayal. Sunlight streamed through the high windows of the estate, mocking me with its brightness. Across the mahogany table, Ivan stood with his head bowed, the picture of a man burdened by a heavy truth.If I hadn’t been the one he was burying, I might have actually admired the performance. Infact, I was still impressed by his act up and his foolish could I be“Amelia,” Anastasia said, her voice a low, dangerous simmer. “Is there anything else? Any more lies you’d like to add to the others before we escort you to the holding cells?”“It’s not a lie, Stasia,” I said, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to keep it steady. I stepped toward her, but the guards, men I’d shared drinks with only two nights ago stepped in, their hands hovering over their sidearms. I stopp
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