Serena’s POV
Mirah’s perfume reached me before her voice did, cloying and over-sweet, as if someone had poured syrup over something already spoiling, trying to mask the rot instead of cleaning it.
“I thought you’d be gone by now.”
I didn’t turn toward her because I didn’t need to. Only one woman in Moonclaw knew how to smile as if it were a blade, and I recognized her presence before her words even finished echoing.
Mirah.
She stepped into place beside me on the stone path as though we were two old friends taking air together, but every movement of hers carried the calculation of a performance. Her heels clicked gently with each step, her dress pressed so perfectly it seemed ironed into her skin, the color of it deliberately chosen a white too deliberate, too practiced, too planned. S
