RAYA BANKS

Goosebumps rose on my back and neck as the handmaiden marched me outside the maiden chambers , and I saw the ornately decorated hallway for what felt like the first time. There were rows of small fitted fluorescents on the high ceiling of the passage, the stone walls slanted in thin columns at the top so that the draft from outside blew through the space.

“Well if it isn’t the runaway,” A snotty-faced woman chipped, the glazed coffee tone of her collarbones catching my eyes.

If I didn't know any better I would have sworn the woman was one of those high-bred werewolves that spawned from a half-Lycan...