The air in the chamber grew thick and heavy with unspoken tension as I stared at my mother—Elizabeth, the Silver Sovereign, the untouchable Ice Empress whose name alone could freeze battlefields.
She was breathtaking in her cold perfection.
Long, flowing silver hair cascaded down her back like liquid moonlight, shimmering with every subtle shift of her body. Her eyes, the same striking silver as mine, were sharp and unyielding, framed by elegant lashes that gave her an almost ethereal, otherworldly beauty.
High cheekbones, full lips pressed into that signature stern line, and a body sculpted by years of merciless training—tall, toned, with generous curves that her form-fitting battle attire only accentuated.
Her breasts strained against the fabric, full and heavy, while her hips flared into powerful yet feminine thighs. And between those thighs… the sacred place I had only ever dreamed of.
