Three days.Three. Miserable. Days.That’s how long I’ve been stuck in this marble coffin they call a palace, scrubbing floors that never get dirty, serving creatures who could end me with a flick of their wrist, and pretending I don’t hear the whispers.“That’s her, the hybrid one.”“How is she still alive?”“She must have bewitched them.”The servants don’t even try to hide their disgust anymore. I hear them when I pass the hallways, see the way they press themselves against the walls as if my very presence might stain them.I don’t blame them, though. If I weren’t me, I’d probably be scared too.Still, it doesn’t make it easier. Every glance, every hushed insult, every task meant to break me, builds, like pressure beneath my skin testing my control.“This place is a nightmare,” I mutter under my breath, setting down a tray of silver goblets in the council dining room.“Correction,” Nyme purrs lazily in my head, “a beautifully gothic nightmare with shirtless supernatural rulers.”I
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