Chapter Thirty Seven
The atmosphere in the throne room was thick enough to choke the senses. High above, the King leaned forward, his eyes shimmering with a cold, predatory intelligence. Tom stood at the base of the stairs, his pulse thrumming in his ears as the King's voice rumbled through the chamber: "Do you know your crime, boy?"
Tom's mind raced. He thought of the date in the city, the laughter he had shared with Caroline, and the way her hand had felt in his. Is this it? he wondered. Is he going to execute me for touching his daughter?
"No, my King," Tom replied, his voice a steady mask for the turmoil beneath.
"You're guilty," the King said, a slow, jagged smile spreading across his face, "of taking my daughter's heart."
