The transit from the human district to the gray borders of the Rogue King's territory felt like crossing into another dimension. I kept my head down, the matted wig itching against my scalp. But as the iron gates of Jarek's estate groaned open—yielding to me without a single word from the guards—the Goldbane blood in my veins began to thrum.
The mansion was ahead. As I stepped into the grand foyer, the air changed. It didn't smell like Gideon's artificial citrus and expensive truffles; it smelled of bergamot, rain, and the tang of power.
The Head Housekeeper met me at the door. I braced myself for the cold shoulder since after my last explosive exit and the venomous things Hera had likely whispered about me, I expected to be treated like a leper. To my surprise, the woman's face softened. She offered a small, respectful tilt of her head.
"Luna Elowen," she said with a warm tone. "We have been expecting you. A maid will take you to King Jarek shortly."
