KEILAH

My hands clenched into fists. I shot the Queen a death glare, my chest rising and falling as fury surged through me like wildfire.

How dare she.

How dare she strip away something so sacred, so personal—without my permission, without remorse.

The Queen, unmoved by my rage, sat back down with her usual elegance, brushing invisible dust from her gown. “Let’s continue.”

“Why did you do that?” I snapped, my voice trembling with emotion. “What gives you the right to erase my marks?!”

She raised an arched brow as if the question amused her.

“What do you take yourself to be?” she said coolly, her tone sharper than any...