Daphne's POV
I lay sprawled across my bed, eyes fixed on the ornate ceiling above me. A thin layer of dust had settled on the crystal chandelier. Strange how these trivial details caught my attention when my thoughts refused to settle.
Lyra's image burned behind my closed eyelids. That defiant look she had given me. The way her gaze never wavered when she met mine. The sharp crack of her palm against my cheek still echoed in my memory hours afterward.
My fingers traced the spot where she had struck me. The physical pain had subsided, but the humiliation lingered like poison in my veins.
The audacity of that woman.
