The laughter of men still drifted faintly through the corridors below, mingling with the clatter of goblets and drunken boasts, but Amara's attention was fixed wholly on the balcony where Cherry had just disappeared. Her breath came quick and shallow, as though she herself had been part of the heated spectacle, though she had only been a witness, an intruder of sorts, but one Cherry had allowed.
Allowed.
That thought alone sent a shiver crawling down Amara's spine.
Cherry had known she was there, watching, listening, learning.
Every moan, every declaration, every flare of temper between the two women, it had all been for her benefit, hadn't it? A performance. A test.
Amara pressed a hand to her lips, her body thrumming with something she could not name.
Fear? Thrill? Desire? Or was it simply the intoxicating realization that she had been noticed by Cherry, not as a child, not as one of Candy's nameless girls, but as someone worthy of a secret.
