By the time the sun began to dip below the Alpin peaks, the transition was complete. Margaret had been moved to the most secure suite in the Citadel. The walls were lined with lead, silver, and runes.
It was a room designed to hold a Goddess, and now, it held the only person Lilian truly feared for.
Lilian stood by the window of the new chamber, watching her mother sleep under the watchful eyes of Dante. She still could feel her power, restless as the state of her mind was.
"It's time," Dante whispered, looking at her from the side of the bed. He looked exhausted, but he held himself. "They've gathered them in the holding cells."
She didn't say a word. She turned and walked toward the dungeons with her three princes and Valerius following her.
The dungeon was freezing. Erielle was chained to a stone pillar, her clothes torn from her fall, but her eyes were still full of pride. A dozen of her followers sat behind her, their faces bruised but defiant.
