Rhys glanced at you wearily. You’d usurped Amarantha—an impressive feat on its own—and executed her loyalists.

That left him.

He’d been a prisoner. Everyone knew that. Even if the garb and the scars weren’t enough, Amarantha’s glamour casting the word “whore” above his head gave it away. A last dying gift from the bitch.

But being a prisoner didn’t take away the fact that he’d worked for Amarantha. And now he knelt in the throne room as you sat ahead of him, awaiting his fate.