Ivara’s POV
I stood near the polished wall, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird as I layered my scent with different perfumes, over and over again.
Yeah, I decided to trust Elodie. She seemed genuine. Besides, did I have any other choice? I had already left the castle.
I watched as the other dancers stretched and adjusted their costumes.
I had found out that they were the Wolf Hunt traditional dancers—chosen every year from a specific age group. No one danced this piece twice in her lifetime. It was sacred.
Elodie moved behind me, her hands resting on my shoulders. “Breathe. You told me you know the steps, right? You said you saw the palace dancers dance at Silver Moon.”
I nodded. “Yes… but—”
“No buts. Girl, ease up. You look constipated even with a mask.” She shook her head.
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