King Edward heard the news before the chapel bell had even stopped ringing.
The report was delivered in hushed tones: a man had confessed with his life, a duchess had cried injustice before the heavens, and the city had already begun to choose sides. Edward's expression remained unchanged as he listened, his fingers resting lightly against the arm of the throne.
He dismissed the messenger with a single gesture.
At once, an order was sent.
Duchess Anita was to be summoned to the palace—immediately.
By the time she arrived, night had fallen. The corridors were lit with tall lamps, their flames steady, their silence heavy. Duchess Anita walked with her head held high, grief carefully arranged on her face, every step measured as though she were already standing before the eyes of the world. She understood that this was the most critical step.
King Edward did not keep her waiting.
