Lady Evalina Valerius sat alone in her solar, the afternoon sun breaking through tall glass panes, scattering gold across the Persian rugs and polished marble. She hadn't touched her tea in a while…the porcelain cup was cold against her fingers, but she clung to it as if warmth might return if she just held on long enough.
Across from her, her brother, Salyer Hammon, had sunk comfortably into a leather chair, his posture lazy but his eyes sharp. That glint of satisfaction in them made Evalina bristle. He always wore that look when things were bending toward his design.
"You look troubled, sister," he said, smooth as ever. Court life had polished his voice into something between silk and venom. "Surely this latest turn of events unsettles you."
Her grip tightened. The very mention of it soured her stomach. "That boy's popularity makes me sick," she snapped.
