Cynthia Raventhorn stood in the middle of Aurelia's bedchamber like she owned it. Her crimson lips curved into a smile that never reached her dark eyes. She carried herself with an elegance that was almost predatory.
Aurelia studied her in silence, still seated at the edge of the bed. Gwen lingered nearby, stiff as a board, the air heavy with tension.
"Well," Cynthia began, her tone honeyed but sharp, "so it's true. The king really did marry the cursed princess of the Flameborne line." Her gaze flicked over Aurelia from head to toe, her expression one of irritation. "I must say, I imagined someone… taller."
Aurelia's lips twitched. "And I imagined the nobility of Valkoron would at least have the decency to greet their queen properly."
Cynthia's smirk widened. "Oh, forgive me, Your Majesty. I wasn't sure if we were calling you that already, given the… circumstances."
Gwen took a step forward. "Watch your tongue, my lady—"
