The air was thick with the smell of heavy smoke and the glow of massive, flickering fires. Deer heads were roasting, and boars were being turned over the flames. Some drank wild boar blood from their chalices with savage appetite, while others placed hunted rabbit feet before Kael as "good luck" charms. Warm wine was poured from the cellars into goblets, and everyone dove into a game of false peace, waiting for the moon to rise.
That silver wedding dress, encrusted with thousands of crystals, didn't sit on Lira like armor; it looked like a borrowed shell. Though she was as beautiful as a swan, she slithered toward me like a snake. It was clear she had come solely to spit her venom. Dressed in that heavy gown, an heirloom from Kael's mother, she approached me with a staged grace. Despite the weight of the savage feast, the rising smoke, and the bruising purple sky, her voice was as thin and sharp as a shard of glass.
