Miranda stormed out of the chamber, infuriated. Lyra's audacity to reject her left her humiliated, her pride stung so deeply that she clenched her fists, nails digging sharply into her flesh.
All her life, she had been the one in control. Lyra had once trailed behind her like a loyal pup, jumping at her every command. But now, with their roles abruptly reversed, Lyra had the nerve to look down on her—as if she were beneath her.
Outside the chamber, Miranda seethed in silence, her clenched fists trembling at her sides. Her thoughts spiraled until a throat cleared nearby.
"Ahem-hm."
Her head jerked in the direction of the sound. It was Penny—Lyra's attendant—approaching her with an unreadable expression.
"What happened? Did your little plan fail?" Penny asked, arms crossed over her chest.
Miranda's brows knitted together, a tick forming near her eye at the smug curve of Penny's lips.
"What are you talking about?" she snapped.
