CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

SAMANTHA’S POV

Servants and guards flinched as I passed. Some pressed themselves flat against the walls, eyes fixed on the floor. Others actually turned and started running, just at the sight of me. I didn’t blame them. I could still feel the ghost of Elara’s cruelty clinging to me like smoke—her slap across Valerie’s face, the vase crashing down, the lifeless maid on the rug. They weren’t looking at me. They were looking at her.

And right now, I wore her ...