Elena
From wearing silk gowns to drab rough linens. From banquet tables to discarded trays. From favored daughter to invisible maid.
Invisible. Until someone needed to sneer. Or wanted something scrubbed. I was starting to feel like Lila.
The borrowed servant dress chafed at my shoulders, rough and ill-fitted. I tugged it tighter anyway, a poor mimicry of control. My hands shook, just slightly, as I passed another set of closed doors.
Laughter filtered faintly through the crack beneath one—women still in the running, still competing for my place.
Lila was probably among them, draped in borrowed gowns, smiling that coy little smile of hers while Damon drank it in like she was something with value. As if she hadn’t slithered into the role meant for me.
As if she hadn’t taken everythi
