CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The woman before her is barely recognizable. Gone is the pristine princess who once commanded respect with her regal bearing. Amiral's once-immaculate gown hangs in tatters, stained with mud anddirt. Her golden hair, which used to shine like spun sunlight, now hangs in greasy tangles around her gaunt face. Dark circles ring her wild eyes, and her pale skin bears the marks of someone who has descended into madness.
Faelyn stands frozen, a prolonged silence stretching between them. Right this moment, as she gazes at Amiral, her heart is pounding so hard in her chest, threatening to shatter her ribs as Mordered's words replay in her mind.
"What happened? Not happy to see me?"
Faelyn's eyes narrow as Amiral approaches even closer, covering up the distance between them, her eyes brimming with hurt as though she has done nothing wrong, and Faelyn snaps.