Candy slammed the door of her chamber so hard the hinges rattled. She pressed her back against the wood, her chest heaving. Her fists were balled tight, her nails cutting crescents into her palms.
That woman. That cursed, unchanging woman.
For a brief second on that balcony, when Cherry's mouth was on hers and her laughter spilled against her neck, Candy had foolishly allowed herself to believe, just for one heartbeat, that Cherry had chosen her.
That maybe the exile years and the crown obsession had dulled her hunger. That maybe she wanted a home, a partner, a chance at something other than endless schemes.
But Cherry hadn't changed.
No. She never would.
Candy stormed across the room, knocking over a vase on the low table.
It shattered, scattering water and petals across the carpet, but she didn't care. She wanted the destruction. She wanted something to break as easily as her heart had.
