Avelyn walked through the palace halls like sin wrapped in satin.
Her gown was black and hugged her curves like it had been painted on. The slit ran high enough to make grown men forget how to breathe. Her hair tumbled down her back in waves, lips painted blood red, and her eyes? Oh, they weren’t soft anymore. They burned—cold, clear, calculated.
She wasn't trying to play nice anymore.
She was done with the trembling girl they once ignored. That girl was gone. Buried in the spirit realm where she'd clawed her way back from the edge of death. This woman now? She was fire wrapped in lace. A storm dressed in perfume.
And as she walked past Kaelen in the great hall, her hip brushing just barely against his side, she didn’t stop. Didn’t look at him. Just let the faintest scent of her skin l
