The evening shadows stretched long across Vetra's private chambers as Bianca Virelya stormed through the doors without bothering to knock.
She knew the way... had been here before during previous visits to the capital, back when Vetra had still been cultivating her as the perfect candidate for Empress, grooming her with carefully chosen words and subtle promises about destiny and duty.
The chambers were as she remembered: opulent but cold, decorated in shades of white and silver that complemented Vetra's ice magic, furniture arranged with mathematical precision, every object positioned to convey power and control.
Bianca's hand throbbed beneath the cloth she'd hastily wrapped around it, the burns still angry and raw despite the healing salve one of her attendants had applied. The pain sharpened her fury rather than dampening it, a constant reminder of her humiliation in the garden.
