Lyssandra.
Back in Zarek’s chamber, I sat beside Danika on the vast bed, watching the healer’s herbs fade, their scent thinning into the air like dying breath.
Danika lay pale against the pillows, her breathing soft but steady, and for a fleeting heartbeat, the fury burning inside me dimmed to a simmer.
“I swear to you,” I murmured, my voice taut with restrained rage, “I will do everything in my power to see Valtira punished for this. She will not escape judgment—not this time. Not after what she has done to you.”
Danika turned her head weakly toward me, her lashes trembling as if she barely had strength to lift them.
For a moment, I thought she would cry again—
and that possibility alone stoked the fire inside me hotter.
Valtira deserved pain.
A great deal of it.
For embarrassing
