Prince Damien's Pet
I flinched, Mother's hand instinctively reaching for me, shielding me like a lioness guarding her young.
The guard smirked, slapping his baton against the bars once more, his voice dripping with scorn. "The royal court is ready to judge you... traitors."
The iron door of the cage screeched open, and rough hands pulled Mother and me to our feet, shackling our wrists with cold, unyielding chains. The clinking metal reverberated in the hollow silence, heavy and foreboding. I stole a glance at Mother, whose face was a mask of determination, every line etched with an unspoken promise of survival.
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