Serena's back hit the stone, lungs not letting her get a full breath. She slid down the wall and pulled her knees to her chest.
She was hiding in a literal broom closet.
Well, it was an antechamber. Technically. But with the dust on the furniture and the single window letting in a sliver of grey light, the distinction felt generous.
Was this rock bottom? Maybe.
Her eyes burned, so she pressed the heels of her hands into them and tried to push the tears back in, which was stupid, because that had never worked in her entire life, but she kept trying anyway.
She was furious at herself. For being this much of a mess. For crying in front of the entire court. For not being able to hold it together for one hour, one single hour, in a room full of people who were already talking about her behind her back.
