A night past.
Within the castle of the witches' clan, Kara paced the chamber, her fingers trembling with barely restrained fury.
That treacherous wretch—her own friend—had taken up with her husband, and she, the rightful wife, was left to seethe in silence.
What was her mother planning? Why was it taking so long?
"Why have you not touched your meal?" her aunt inquired as she entered, the maid trailing behind—the same girl Kara had dismissed upon arriving.
"I've no appetite," she snapped.
"Foolish girl. We do not waste away over a husband's w***e. Nay, we welcome them if it serves our purpose. Stop this sulking and come eat."
"I should sit at table while my hands itch to tear that harlot apart?"
Her aunt sighed, stepping forward to rest a firm hand upon her shoulder.
"Your mother i
