Chapter 38; Whispers of Pestilence

THRYSTAN

"Shouldn't you be in something red or green to attract your future lord husband?"

Elaria swiveled to glare at me, her expression mirroring the same mix of boredom and frustration I felt. This wasn't the first time we had to feign enjoyment in this life of constant attention. She glanced down at her black dress, edged with dark red lace.

"Oh, please. I'd sooner be eaten mercifully by dragons than feed Father's ego any more than it already is," she said, her gaze drifting to the King, who stood in the far corner with a guest, accompanied by Mother. "I won't give him that satisfaction."

"And you do not worry about the consequences of this action?"

She shook her head defiantly. "Not exactly."

Ever since Elaria faced Pete at the Wreath, she'd grown increasingly confident, stretching her wings little by little. It was as if confronting that danger had assured her she could withstand even our father's wrath. She was a Diremage, after all.

"You still look pretty in your mourning dres