I forced myself up from the floor, my muscles screaming in protest. I wouldn't let her win. I was Hera of the Duskwind, the Rogue King's right hand, the woman who had balanced his ledgers and buried his enemies for a decade.
I was respected. I was feared. And I wasn't going to let a high-born porcelain doll like Elowen shatter the foundation I'd built.
I stepped into the en suite bathroom, the steam from the shower quickly blurring the mirror until my ruined face disappeared. I stripped and sank into the clawfoot tub, the scalding water stinging my skin, but I welcomed the burn.
It felt like a purification.
As the heat soaked into my marrow, the darkness of the morning began to shift. My mind, ever the architect of my own survival, started to paint a lovely picture,
"He was just shocked," I whispered to the steam.
