The Vale Mansion loomed like a pale stone predator over its sprawling grounds, banners bearing the crimson sigil of House Vale fluttering in the wind. The air was thick with the scent of summer wine and sharpened intentions.
Isadora stepped from the carriage, a shadow amidst silk and sunlight. Her black gown clung to her figure like midnight mist, slits rising along each leg. Her ginger hair was swept up into an intricate twist, loose strands framing her face. Dark kohl lined her eyes, giving her a dangerous sort of beauty—not quite delicate, not quite tame.
She knew exactly what she was walking into.
As she entered the grand sitting hall, the soft murmur of noble daughters quieted. Heads turned. The other girls — clad in airy pastels, glittering jewels, and expensive smiles — exchanged glances. At the center, seated like a queen on a velvet chaise, was Lady Sephrina Vale, radiant in crimson silk.
