Aria’s POV
I followed Elena down the grand staircase. She walked with the poise of a queen returning to her throne, her silk gown whispering against the marble. I lingered a few steps behind, my simple attire and dampened hair making me feel like a shadow trailing behind a sun.
Getting dressed had been an exercise in suppressed anger. Every time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror looking pale, trembling, and wearing a simple linen dress I’d found in the wardrobe, I heard Elena’s voice echoing in my head. Fiancée. The mother of the next Vaelor heir.
The words felt like a slow-acting poison, numbing the pain in my head only to replace it with a hollow ache in my chest.
When we reached the room, the air was thick with the scent of ancient power and expensive tobacco. Noah was
