The king’s voice was strained but commanding and everyone else in the room marched to the exit without even glancing back, except for Claye, who remained only a few steps away. At the sound of the door closing, the queen walked back to her husband. Her earlier grace had vanished as she collapsed against his chest, sobbing like a child.

‘Araxia, what happened?’

The king held his wife closely, lightly rubbing her back, and Sapphire suddenly felt like she was intruding.

‘Kip, it is her,’ the queen sputtered. ‘Her palm. Look at her palm. It’s Aylara.’

His eyes found Sapphire, and they stayed there for a few heartbeats. The only sounds in the room were the queen’s meek sobs and the king’s heavy silence.

The tension returned to his posture, and he led his wife back to her seat before approaching Sapphire.

‘Your palm again, please?’

‘And if I say no?’

His eyes darkened at her words. Sapphire searched his face, trying to find clemency. Find clarity. Find herself.

‘It wasn’t a request,’ he replied, reaching for her hand.

Her fingernails dug into her skin until she wondered if she had drawn blood.

‘Please, Aylara.’

It was the queen who spoke now. Her voice was teetering on the edge of begging. Sapphire met the woman’s tear-stained gaze for a moment but forced herself to look away.

‘That’s not my name,’ she snapped.

‘Please … Sapphire.’

Don’t care, don’t care, Sapphire chanted to herself. It wasn’t her responsibility to care. But she couldn’t help feel pity at the queen’s desperate expression.

The king took his chance.

His left hand lunged forward, wrapping itself around her wrist. His right forced her fingers back one by one.

‘Kip!’ the queen cried.

‘Aylara, we don’t have time for games.’

As he bent back her last finger, the king paused, shooting Sapphire a look she couldn’t quite read. Apologetic, weary, tired even. He ran his forefinger down the length of her jagged scar – leaving a burning sensation in its wake.

‘You are hurting me!’ she hissed through gritted teeth. Anger simmered deep inside her. Anger that now outweighed any fear that she’d felt.

He dropped her hand but his smugness was gone. His face betrayed panic as he moved quickly, and silently, back to his throne.

‘It’s her.’ There was no question in his tone. ‘Call them. Let’s get this settled.’

A quick flick of his wrist was all it took to send Claye out into the hall, shouting as he went. Sapphire did her best to track every movement, every word, trying to take stock, make sense, anything to understand the world around her.

She didn’t hear Claye’s soft-footed return.

‘You fit.’ He lowered his voice as he continued. ‘You fit who they say you are more than you probably realize.’