Luna.
The Queen's presence filled the entire room. But it wasn't her feral grace that made Isolde's breath seize in her throat — it was the thing she was holding.
William's head.
Luna's fingers were wrapped around his matted hair, the lifeless face dangling at her side, eyes glassy and mouth frozen mid-shock. A single droplet of blood slid from his chin and fell onto the floor.
William… dead? Her protector. Her secret weapon. The man whose power she had hidden behind all this time.
Luna's lips curved upward. She stepped forward and, with a flick of her wrist, flung the severed head at Isolde's feet. It hit the floor with a dull, wet thud, rolling once before stopping inches from the hem of Isolde's gown.
"He was your power," Luna said softly. She began to move closer. "Your backbone." Another step — closer now. "The one who gave you the courage to come after my people…and my husband."
Isolde tried to back away but her legs betrayed her — trembling, weak. "You can't—"
