Chapter 29
Elara’s POV
The days after the attack blurred into a haze of recovery, but I refused to let myself stay weak. Pain was an inconvenience, not a chain.
I walked the palace halls with my head held high, even when my side throbbed beneath the silk gown they insisted I wear. Every step was a statement: I survived. I endured.
But survival was not enough.
It was during a morning gathering of nobles—one of those endless displays of court vanity—that I found myself face-to-face with Mireille again.
She drifted into the chamber like smoke, her beauty flawless, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. When her gaze landed on me, it lingered just long enough to unnerve but not enough to draw suspicion. She inclined her head politely as if we were acquaintances rather than enemies circling
