The scent of vintage lavender and heavy, suffocating royal incense permeated every square inch of the Dowager Luna’s private chambers. Cordelia Whitmore sat before her mahogany vanity, meticulously smoothing a rich cream into her hands. The fire in her hearth crackled with a low, rhythmic snap, casting long, dancing shadows across the heavy velvet drapes that shut out the bleak winter afternoon.A sharp, hesitant knock broke the quiet."Come in, Angelica," Cordelia called out, her voice devoid of its public hostility, replaced instead by a smooth, calculating warmth.The heavy door creaked open, and Angelica stepped inside. She had changed into a form-fitting gown of deep crimson silk, her dark hair cascading perfectly over her shoulders. She looked every bit the picture of western nobility, though the slight tension in her jaw betrayed her nerves."You called for me, Luna Cordelia?" Angel asked, keeping her posture impeccably straight, embodying the grace she had been drilled to disp
Last Updated : 2026-06-08 Read more