As Cassian was carried away, the servants whispered among themselves. They had seen the Empress's wrath before, but this was different. The sight of the Crown Prince—normally composed and untouchable—reduced to such a state was unsettling.
The head servant, an older woman with a kind face, directed the others to lay him on a bed and clean his wounds. Her hands were steady as she worked. She was glad to have been born a commoner.
The world of royalty and nobility was completely opposite to the image they tried to portray. She knew of the dark secrets. As much as she sympathised with the boy, there was not much she could do.
Cassian's body ached, each movement sending a sharp jolt of pain through him. But his mind was clear. He had survived worse, and he would survive this too.
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