Victor’s mind was racing. Spinning. Desperate.
He had prepared for war, for rebellion, even for treachery from his enemies. He had not prepared for this.
This was a trap. A well-constructed, merciless trap. And he had walked into it.
The undercurrent of whispers in the room was suffocating. A few of the high-ranking demons, ones who had long hidden their dissatisfaction, smirked. Their mocking gazes burned into Victor’s skin like molten iron.
No. No. This could not be happening.
The shame. The disgrace.
Victor clenched his fists, trying to suppress the rage flooding his veins. He would not, could not, yield before his court. He would not let this moment define him, not let his own half-blood son strip him of his authority.
He forced himself to breathe, forced his mind to work.
Ther
