Pearl’s POV
The screams still echoed when the sound of hooves split the air. The heavy doors of the hall thundered open, crashing against the walls with a force that made the chandeliers tremble.
Gasps, shouts, then silence, terrible, suffocating silence.
I turned, my body stiff as stone. Through the doorway came a figure mounted on a black horse, its hooves clanging against the marble floor, leaving smears of mud and blood in its wake. My breath caught in my chest.
It was him.
Demyan.
But not the man I remembered, not the one who had once looked at me with warmth. He was clad in battle armor, dark and heavy, dented and slick with fresh blood. His sword hung in his hand, dripping red onto the polished floor, the metallic scent crawling into my lungs. His face—oh gods—his face was sha
