~ Anara's POV ~
The rain fell in thin, glistening sheets against the high windows of my chambers, whispering secrets against the ancient, timeworn glass. A hush had settled over the estate… the kind of quiet only born from fear. The kind that meant even the walls held their breath.
I stood before the hearth, the fire casting long, restless shadows that danced along the carved stone walls like wraiths coming to bear witness to my triumph. A triumph that took decades in the making.
I drew the ivory comb slowly through my silver-threaded dark hair, savoring the silky drag of it. Each stroke is a reminder of the life I’d shaped with patience and venom. The scent of rose oil clung to my skin… sweet, heady, and thick as sin… blending with the coppery perfume of fresh-cut lilies resting on the
