Elaria’s POV
I waited until dinner was done. Until the King, my husband, and Rickard had retired to bed, and until even the servants’ footsteps had softened into quiet.
The night was still, except for the faint sound of crickets and the soft clinking of silverware being cleaned far off in the kitchen. But in my chest, there was a storm. A storm had happened tonight and I would be crazy not to confront Amara about this nonsense.
My feet carried me down the west corridor before I could change my mind. I knew where I would find her. She always did love a mirror, and the moonlight through the stained glass windows made this hallway glow like it was meant for her twisted little show.
Sure enough, there she was.
Standing tall before the glass, with her dyed silver hair falling like a lie
