Aurora’s POV

For a heartbeat, time froze.

The shreds of Helen’s handbag ,  once glossy, expensive, flaunted like a badge of superiority, lay scattered across the courtyard tiles like torn pieces of a life I no longer belonged to. 

The ripped leather curled inward like wilted leaves. Gold hardware glinted weakly under the lantern light.

It looked pitiful.

And I felt nothing. The crowd, however, reacted immediately. Gasps echoed around us.

Whispers ignited like sparks jumping from one dry ...