Chapter 869 Cursed Royal Blood

• Loki's gaze hardened as he shifted the interrogation. "Then... What about my father?" The simple question echoed beneath the high, vaulted ceiling, a chill note that made every gilded candle tremble in its sconce.
• Across from him, Isabella flinched. Color drained from her face until her lips looked carved from wax. They parted once, twice, yet no sound emerged—only a fragile tremor that chased fresh tears down her cheek.
• "Who is he?" Loki demanded, abandoning every pretense of patience.