Rhea felt eyes on her as she walked past.
One young servant dropped a tray at the sight of her, porcelain shattering against stone, and whispered a prayer under her breath as if to ward off a curse.
Rhea froze, and though no one said her name aloud, she knew exactly who they meant. Her. Always her.
She hadn’t told anyone about the dream… not truly. Not the twin, not the chains, not the way Lucien’s eyes had given him away.
And yet, somehow, she felt as though everyone already knew.
Her hand brushed against the cold wall as she walked the corridor. She wanted to turn back, to bury herself in her bed and pretend sleep would offer her peace.
But every time she closed her eyes, she saw the silver eyes of her chained reflection staring back. Every time, she heard the clink of iron.
“R
