Humiliation burned hotter than the sting still lingering against Avarine's cheek.
She walked quickly through the palace, silk skirts sweeping sharply around her legs while servants hurried out of her path. Her gentle demeanor had fractured long before she stepped away from Circe's presence. Now rage churned so violently inside her that she could barely think straight.
She had been slapped and threatened. Then dismissed like she was some foolish child. Her nails dug painfully into her palms as she descended another staircase.
How dare Circe look down on her that way.
"How dare she stand there wearing a crown that should have been mine." Avarine said through clenched teeth.
Circe stole everything that should have been hers. The man that Avarine loved and the title of queen. Circe took it all.
The memory of Circe's words replayed again and again in her mind.
Ragnar was never yours.
Her vision blurred beneath the crushing swell of hatred and humiliation burning through her.
