The Princess's Second Life
Nobles pressed close, their questions and compliments sticky as honey.
“Princess, the envoys must be charmed by your grace.”
“Elara, will you not dance tonight? The hall begs for it.”
“You sit beside Kieran so well—you already seem matched.”
Each word felt like a chain tightening around her throat. She smiled, nodded, let the words slip past her lips like a mask—but inside, her wolf snarled.
When she finally stole a moment of silence, Serenya appeared at her side.
“Elara.” The girl’s smile was soft, her gown gleaming pale green, delicate as springtime. “You look radiant tonight.”