I watched the last of the black hair dye wash down the drainage. Standing in front of the mirror, I watched the maids flutter about the nervously, slipping the white flimsy silk over my skin.
"I always did like you better," Queen Samara says.
I catch sight of her through the mirror.
She is dressed as resplendently as always, her stare sharp as always and coy. Her elegant fingers rest over her stomach in an erect poise, dark hair pulled back tightly from her face.
Six years, and it feels as though nothing has changed.
With the exception of Danika hovering around. There's a different acolyte with her now, a timid blonde with a petit nose. I half-wondered if she's slept with my ex-husband, too.
I reach up for the white robe and rip it off my skin.
The chamber descends into silence.
"Red," I say, voice harsh, though my lips quirked up in a smile. "Bring me the red robe. I'm no virgin bride now, am I? And Ruin does like his colors better on me."
