Lilia
I just got home when the velvet double doors of the Limpson mansion groaned open to her, as if they recognised her brand of chaos.
It was Kathrine; she arrived unannounced, just like she always did when something malicious brewed behind her painted smile.
I met her in the solarium, where sunlight filtered through floor-length crystal windows and bathed my orchids in gold.
She hated my flowers; she said they were “too lame.”
“I saw her again,” Kathrine said, collapsing onto the silk chaise without asking for permission, her stilettos digging into the embroidered rug that cost more than some wolves' homes.
“Kyria, floating through the hall like she belonged in Lunari silk.”
I raised an eyebrow from where I sat near the jade fountain, sipping a lavender cocktail. “You're obsesse
