The palace corridors had grown quieter by the time Sibyl stepped out of her chambers.
Antoinette had finally gone back to her home and Prince Luther, was currently asleep after she had breastfed him.
Most servants had withdrawn for the night and most of the torches had already been put off, leaving only a few to burn along the stone walls, casting long shadows across the floors.
Sibyl adjusted the folds of her gown and continued forward. Her face remained calm, regal as ever, but her mind was far from calm. It was turbulent.
Her conversation with Antoinette replayed in fragments in her mind. And one thing annoyed her mostly. Euphemia.
Sibyl clenched her jaw. She had known that Damon's attention had drifted. He no longer looked at her like he even wanted her.
Once, when Sibyl entered a room, he had always stared. Now his gaze passed over her as though she were a beautiful piece of furniture placed against the wall.
