After eating, I went back to my room and dropped onto the bed, the mattress soft and the weight of the day settling heavy on my shoulders.
This morning, Mom had made me wear a small silver tiara, the insignia of the crown princess resting lightly against my forehead, the pearls and runes cool against my skin.
The mirrors reflected me like a showpiece: the lacy gown, the partially lifted veil, the bite mark on my neck faintly visible under the pale lace. The room felt both too large and too small at the same time.
Suddenly, the door swung open without a knock. Elaine stepped in like a shadow slipping through the light, the air shifting the moment she crossed the threshold. Her eyes locked on mine, the cold, unreadable blue fixed like a blade.
"Why didn't you lie to your father?" she asked, her voice low and sharp, cutting through the quiet of the room.
