Victoria Taryn's definition of "guarding" was indistinguishable from a military occupation.
For two agonizing days, Kaia was not permitted to be alone for a single second. If she walked the gardens, Victoria walked half a step behind her. If she read in the drawing room, Victoria sat opposite her, watching over the top of a book on imperial etiquette. Even Kaia's baths were supervised by a trusted, severe-looking maid handpicked by her sister.
The cage was small, suffocating, and terrifyingly effective.
"Stand up straight," Victoria whispered, her voice barely carrying over the solemn drone of the high priest. "You are slouching in the house of the Gods."
"My knees are cramping," Kaia whispered back, staring blankly at the stained-glass window at the front of the Royal Chapel.
