Mira reentered the ballroom, the flickering chandeliers casting golden light across her path. Her eyes swept the crowd until they landed on Lara, now standing apart from Prince Alaric and chatting with a small group of noble ladies. Laughter rippled through the circle as Lara spoke, her posture poised, her smile effortless. The elegance in her bearing had not dulled with time—if anything, it had sharpened.
Something twisted in Mira's chest.
Those same ladies had once clung to her every word when Lara was absent. Now, with her sister back, the attention that had been Mira's was slipping through her fingers. She schooled her expression into something pleasant and glided toward the group, her smile as polished as the pearls at her neck.
