A chill crept through my chest as I scanned the crowd—strangers, every one of them, yet their stares carried a familiar weight. Hatred, dressed in fear.
But they weren't afraid of me.
They were afraid of Dylan.
Maybe my little plan to appear as a "humble, relatable" princess didn't land so well. I'd forgotten that in this world, even children could learn to hate Davina just by listening to bedtime stories told in hushed voices by their parents.
I pushed Dylan away. This time, firmly. No room left for him to pull me back again.
"Davin—" He blurted out instinctively, before correcting himself. "Your Highness."
I didn't care how he felt about calling Davina's name, and I sure as hell wasn't about to shrink from a few cowardly citizens who hurled stones in secret.
I stood tall, chin lifted, posture commanding. My voice rang clear, slicing through the hush like a drawn blade.
"Who threw the stone?"
