Fiona had disliked Guinvere for years.
She despised that distant, superior air, the way Guinvere stood above others as if admiration were owed to her by default. Even worse, there were always men foolish enough to fall for that facade, lining up willingly beneath her shadow, like Sigmund.
What truly irritated Fiona now was the irony of it all.
She had once been willing to align herself with Guinvere against Zora, only to discover that Guinvere also looked down on her. And now, with Prince Kael clearly choosing someone else, Fiona found an unexpected sense of satisfaction blooming in her chest.
If she had already given up on Prince Kael, then she might as well enjoy pulling at Guinvere's carefully maintained pride. She wanted to see how long that lofty composure could last once the truth was dragged into the open.
As a result, her words fell, sharp and unrestrained.
