Mia hardly slept that night.No matter how tightly she hugged her pillow, how long she stared at the wall, or how many times she changed sleeping positions, her mind refused to rest. The image of Rachel holding a broom and a packer—head bowed in humiliation, cheeks blotched red—kept replaying. It wasn't pity that unsettled her, nor was it satisfaction. It was the final look Rachel had thrown her.
A look of blame.
Not hatred, not anger. Blame.
As though Mia had secretly orchestrated her punishment.
How could she think that? Mia never asked for war with her; the girl simply collected problems like a magnet picked metal. But that wasn't all that kept Mia awake. It was Leon—the prince. The bond. The kiss.
She touched her lips, heat rising in her cheeks, and quickly jerked her hand away. No, Elder Rowan said emotions shouldn't control me. I can't allow this. She rolled to her side, eyes wide open in the darkness.
Sleep never came.
—
