Elara was a noblewoman. Educated. Trained. She'd have 'abilities'—maybe merchant skills, political manipulation, information networks—even if she ran away and disguised but had noble upbringing.
And once Viktor took her to bed, Elara would gain 'everything'.
'Just by spreading her legs.'
Kaida's hands clenched into fists.
'She doesn't deserve it.'
The jealousy burned hot and irrational in her chest.
But beneath that—something worse.
'How fucking lucky can one person be?'
Elara looked exhausted. Terrified. Confused. But she was 'here' again even after running away.
That alone meant her fate was probably sealed.
Kaida's mouth twisted.
"Tch." She glared down at Elara, eyes narrowing. "You're too lucky."
Elara's head snapped up. Her amber eyes widened—then filled with something dark. Anger? Frustration?
'Lucky?' Elara's voice cracked. "You think I'm 'lucky?'"
She tried to push herself up, but her arms shook. She collapsed back onto her ass.
Kaida said nothing. Just stared.
