Celine swallowed hard, her throat tightening with a fear that seemed to chill the very air. "I... I quarreled with her," she confessed, her voice trembling.
"You quarreled with Elvira?" Olivia's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine alarm piercing through her icy exterior. "Why? Have you lost your mind? Did she hurt you?"
"No, but... she came to me, preening with that sickening pride of hers. She boasted that she would meet you this weekend, that she would 'take care' of you in her own way. Her eyes, Olivia... they were terrifying. All of this because I dared to speak with you at the Crown Prince's wedding. I am so sorry. Please, I beg of you—do not go."
Olivia watched the frantic shaking of Celine's hands, the raw, animalistic terror gleaming in her eyes. She felt a surge of pity, but it was overshadowed by a cold, calculating resolve.
