Vivian looked nothing like the confident, composed woman who had stood in the council chamber days earlier watching Elena's world collapse with barely concealed satisfaction. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes travel worn, and when the gate guards finally let her through under Damian's watchful nod, she moved with the jittery, exhausted energy of someone who had not slept properly in days. Even in the dim gatehouse light, Elena could see the faint bruising along one of Vivian's wrists, half hidden beneath a sleeve she kept tugging down without seeming to notice she was doing it.
"You have a great deal of nerve showing up here," Damian said flatly, positioning himself half a step ahead of Elena in a way that Elena, weeks ago, might have resented as unnecessary protection, but that tonigh
