Jessica stood alone on the balcony, arms folded tight across her chest, staring out into the dark.
She had tried to reach Kira three times earlier. Each time, the same flat tone told her the phone was switched off. Of course it was.
Her best friend was off at some grand queens' conference, mingling with the most powerful women in the realm, blissfully unaware that back at the palace, Jessica's chest felt like someone had reached in and squeezed.
She needed to talk to someone. She needed Kira.
After Angelica had swept into Kai's room that morning, towing that blonde girl behind her like a prize, Jessica had quietly excused herself and not gone back.
She had learned the girl's name was Alicia. She had learned the way Angelica looked at Alicia, all warmth and approval, the exact opposite of the way she looked at Jessica. And she had refused, point-blank, to cry about it.
