Elara’s POV
I slowly lifted my fingers to my face, pressing them against the small mark on my skin. When I pulled my hand away, there was a tiny, bright speck of red on my fingertip. I didn't blink. I didn't panic. And I definitely didn't buckle under the suffocating wave of jealous power that was currently rolling off the high balcony like a physical storm.
The air in the courtyard was so heavy it felt like breathing wet cement. Around the edge of the ring, a few passing helpers had dropped to their knees, their heads pressed against the dirt in natural terror. Even Wren had gone stiff, his muscles locked tight as Kaelen's raw intent to kill pinned him to the spot.
I didn't care. I looked past the frozen guards, past the shaking servants, and tilted my head straight up toward the south
