The door slammed behind Hellene with a violent crack. She stormed into the room, breath ragged, not from exhaustion, but from the fury that had been clawing at her chest ever since she left Greta's quarters. Her fingers clenched the folds of her gown so tightly her knuckles turned bone-white.
The moment the door clicked shut, she stomped hard and swept her vanity clean with one savage motion. A crystal perfume bottle shattered against the floor, its bitter rose scent slicing through the air like venom. A silver comb skidded across the room and struck the wall with a cold, metallic ring.
Erna, who'd been trailing behind her in silence, flinched and ducked instinctively. She pressed herself into the corner, praying she wouldn't get caught in the crossfire of her mistress's wrath.
