Third-person POV
Little Electra stood in the middle of Queen Jella's roof, small and stiff and trying very hard not to cry. She had learned, over the years, that tears only made things worse. Tears made Jella look at her with more disgust, like she was something scraped off the bottom of a boot. Tears also made Jella angry enough to throw things that did hit their mark.
And tonight was one of those nights.
Jella staggered a little as she moved, her silk gown hanging unevenly across her shoulders, her eyes sharp but glassy from the wine she always drank before she let herself unravel. The queen of Elmeria was known to her people as a graceful, disciplined woman, elegant and composed, but Electra knew the other side of her, the bitter, furious, hateful side that always came out when she had taken more than a few glasses.
"You stand there like you're innocent," Jella snapped, pointing a finger at Electra like she was accusing a criminal. "Like you're not exactly what you are."
