The evening sky bruised purple as the last of the day's light bled across the Bloodfang courtyard. The air smelled of iron, of dust, and of the river that glimmered faintly beyond the orchard. Liora stood at the water's edge, her bare feet half buried in the damp mud.
The chores had ended hours ago, but her hands still trembled from the constant scrubbing, the sweeping, the silent orders barked at her by people who used to bow when she passed.
Elira had gone ahead, promising to keep her supper warm, but Liora had stayed behind under the excuse of "washing up." In truth, she couldn't stand the sound of laughter that came from the main hall. She couldn't bear to see Vanya's smirk, or the banners Kael had hung like stolen trophies over walls that once bore Gonzalo's crest and hers.
Now there was only the river.
