Bitten at the Ball

The grand hall, built of ancient stone and archways carved with runes older than memory, was no longer a throne […]

The sound of the mirror’s destruction still rang in Elara’s ears, a shriek that seemed to reverberate through her bones.

The grand hall throbbed with tension, every elegant figure within it a blade hidden in velvet. Vale’s hand around Elara’s

The fire that had nearly consumed her was gone. What lingered was not weakness, but power. Elara’s eyes opened to

The air on the balcony had been drained of life, but in the study it was heavier still, thick with

The kiss under moonlight lingered in Elara’s veins like fire and honey, a fleeting illusion of peace. For one heartbeat

The study’s air was thick with unshed words, heavy with the echo of Vale’s declaration. Elara’s hand, still locked in

The single black feather still lay on the desk, sharp against the parchment like a wound in the map itself.

The grand hall lay hushed, a tomb of stone and firelight. Only the faint crackle of braziers stirred the silence,

The grand hall of the palace, all soaring arches and cold stone, thrummed with the brittle silence of judgment. Courtiers