Chapter 35: Of Silk, Scent, and Silent Triumphs
The door to Jacinta's chambers closed with a decisive click after Lyria and Kyia left.
For several heartbeats afterward, she stood where she was, unmoving.
Then she began to pace.
The carpet beneath her slippers was woven in pale ivory and gold thread, soft enough to muffle the sharp rhythm of her steps. The walls were lined with mirrored panels and embroidered hangings of moonlit gardens and silver beasts. It was a room designed to soothe, to flatter, to cradle a young woman in luxury and certainty.
None of it soothed her now.
She lifted her hand and pressed the tip of her forefinger between her teeth, biting down without noticing the sting. Her other hand remained clenched at her side.
She turned sharply.
Then turned again.
Her skirts whispered around her ankles.
It was infuriating.
It was always infuriating.
