The courtyard’s hush felt unnatural, as though even the wind dared not move. Elinora’s grip tightened on the training staff, the wood pressing into her palms. Lady Sylra crossed the snow toward her, the hem of her gown gliding over the frost like liquid midnight.
“I didn’t invite you here,” Elinora said, forcing her voice steady.
Sylra’s smile was sharp, white against the blue of her gown. “And yet… here I am. Funny how doors open for me.”
The silver fire in the sconces flickered under a gust, and for a heartbeat, the shadows leaned closer, listening.
“What do you want?” Elinora asked, keeping her voice calm.
Sylra tilted her head, eyes glinting like shards of ice. “To make something clear. You’re temporary. A nuisance. Nothing more.”
Her words slithered into Elinora’s chest, cold an
