That Saturday, Amelia arrived at the Norse manor for her much-anticipated visit. Draped in soft training dress and buzzing with excitement, she had come to learn the intricacies of Lara's dancing—she had promised to teach her.
Mira was already there, her smile polished and pristine, hiding the resentment that simmered beneath her calm facade. She moved with calculated grace, pretending to dote on Lara, every gesture rehearsed like a line in a play she knew all too well.
"Princess Ceres will be celebrating her eighteenth birthday next week!" Amelia announced, her eyes gleaming. "Wouldn't it be lovely if we perform a dance for her?"
Lara's face tightened. She hesitated, the idea clearly unappealing. "You and Mira can perform," she said, her voice cool. "I'll just teach you."
