Selene's POV
Helena laughed. It was a short, ugly sound with no warmth in it at all. "Leave? This is my son's house."
I took a closer look at her.
The red tulip dress she had on was wrinkled and stained in a way that told its own story. There was a smell about her, faint but unmistakable, the particular staleness of someone who had been locked in a small space for too long. The woman standing in front of me bore almost no resemblance to the composed, sharp-tongued noblewoman I had encountered before. That version of Helena had been cold and exact, her contempt delivered quietly, like something refined over years of practice.
This version was raw and unraveling. She had walked straight out of a cell and came directly here without stopping, without composing herself, without doing anyth
