Artemisia

“Oh, dear Goddess.”

I jump as Alberta shows up behind me as I examine my ball gown, which must have been delivered to me just in time for Fynn to trash it.

So mean.

The red fabric adorned with the little gems is now a witness of how sharp claws can be. By all the tears, and seeing that the middle is nearly cut through, it’s remarkable how it’s still hanging against my closet as one item.

She collects herself as she walks into my walk-in wardrobe wearing an encouraging ...