~Waverly~
I stood by the window, the velvet curtains cool against my forehead, watching the distant skyline of the High Class region. My skin still felt sensitized, a buzzing reminder of the hands that had claimed me just hours ago.
But the warmth of the bed was long gone and replaced by the biting chill of the words Kaeren had spat at me before walking out.
Sewage.
I gripped the splintered wood of the bedpost, the rough grain digging into my palm. It was funny, really. I had spent my whole life being told I was nothing—by my foster parents, by the mine supervisors, by the very dirt of the Outer District. I thought I had grown a second skin. But hearing it from him, the man who had buried his face in my neck and called me mate, felt like a fresh blade across an old wound.
"He's a coward. He uses the prince to hide the man who is terrified of us." Nyla scowled, fury sizzling through her.
"I'm done being a part of his game," I whispered to the empty room.
