CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
A gust of wind bursts through the balcony window and into Caleb's chamber. The wind whirls, turning into Thyra. She stands in front of the water screen. Hair still singed. Skin wrinkly, warped, and pink.
Lilith lies on the bed, staring at the purple canopy. She cuts her eyes her daughter’s way long enough to recognize her, then returns her gaze to the canopy.
Thyra stands still, glaring at Lilith. "Mother, I bring you my final report. The boy seems to have made quite the impression on the Princess. I saw him go into her chambers the other night and come out retying his pants.” She smirks distorted lips, running her tongue up and down the inside of her cheek. “He and the slave girl have been for the most part inseparable, except for a few times.” She rolls a hand thro
