Zarelle and Cyric.
They were standing near the buffet table, both holding china plates filled with gourmet delicacies. But it wasn't the food that made my vision blur with sudden, overwhelming hatred, it was the way they were laughing together, their heads bent close as they shared some private joke that excluded the rest of the world.
Zarelle looked radiant in her emerald silk gown, the color making her auburn hair shine like burnished copper under the chandeliers. Those diamond earrings, probably worth more than my borrowed dress, caught the light with every movement of her head, creating tiny rainbows that danced across her throat. And that clutch she carried so casually? I recognized it as a limited edition piece from a designer so exclusive they only made twelve pieces worldwi
