~The Author~
Rosalind knew what she heard. She wasn't making it up. The king called Katrina his love.
It was hard to believe, but she saw it. Heard it. Felt the shift in the room.
Her brother was in love.
She had asked him earlier, straight to his face, but he didn't answer. Maybe he would have told her the truth if their mother hadn't walked in and ruined the moment.
"She'll be fine… she'll get better," their mother kept saying, trying to comfort the king. But Rosalind could see right through the words.
Karl wasn't just worried—he was broken. Terrified.
The last time she saw him like this was when their father died. She and Rania were just little girls then, confused and scared.
Karl didn't come out of his room for six whole days. On the seventh day, they buried their father.
Some said Karl caused it. Others blamed the witches.
No one ever found out the truth.
