The grand foyer was quiet again. The large crowd of servants had bowed low and quickly scattered, eager to get back to their chores and away from the General's cold stare. Only a few guards remained standing by the heavy front doors.
Damon kept his face serious, but his mind was still reeling from the violent, terrifying thoughts he had just heard from his wife. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
Camilla was standing politely beside him. She had a soft, gentle smile on her face. Her hands were clasped neatly in front of her dark red silk dress. She looked like the perfect picture of an innocent, devoted noblewoman.
But inside her head, a completely different story was unfolding.
"Look at him," Camilla thought to herself, her internal voice dripping with heavy sarcasm and deep annoyance.
Damon flinched slightly. He stared straight ahead at the marble floor, forcing himself not to react.
