Lara stared.
For just a second.
A heartbeat of stillness, sharp and bitter.
And then the hatred slammed into her chest like a meteor.
Lucindra stood across the ruined war gallery, poised like a damned empress with a smirk carved into her lips and the audacity to breathe like she belonged here.
Behind Lara, Raveth remained frozen eyes wide, limbs locked by that insidious paralysis. Not dead. Not unconscious. Just helpless.
Because of her.
Because of this walking betrayal in silk.
Lara's voice came low. Dangerous.
"You really have some fucking nerve."
Lucindra tilted her head. "I see your mouth hasn't changed."
"My mouth didn't abandon its kids and rob the throne, you flaming sack of ancient trauma."
Lucindra blinked slowly. "Still dramatic."
"Still breathing. Unfortunate."
Lara stepped forward, boots crunching over broken stone and blood-soaked floorboards.
