~ Amara ~
The invitation had arrived on cream-colored cardstock, embossed with a silver crest that felt sharp under my thumb. Selene was hosting a tea at Moore Crest. She called it a "welcome to the circle" event, but the air in the garden felt more like a courtroom.
I stood before the full-length mirror in my dressing room, smoothing the fabric of a pale lavender dress. It was one of the "options" Selene had sent over—thin silk that clung to every curve I usually tried to hide. I felt exposed. My reflection looked like a stranger, someone fragile and easily broken.
"Mrs. Moore?" Maribel’s voice came from the doorway, clipped and cold. "The guests have arrived in the rose garden. Mr. Moore is waiting for you in the foyer."
"Thank you, Maribel," I whispered. I didn't look at her. I kne
