The morning of the ceremony was a blur of preparation for Maya. Every detail of her appearance and demeanor had to be flawless, not only to meet the expectations of Tay's ruthless father, King Victor, but to ensure her safety among the cunning and dangerous elite of the Underworld.
As she stood in front of the mirror, her attendants fussing over the folds of her ethereal snow-white gown, Maya turned to Tay, who stood observing her from the corner of the room. “Tay,” she said softly, her voice tinged with apprehension, “do we really have to go?”
Tay stepped closer, his orange eyes locking with hers. “Yes,” he said firmly. “Victor is dangerous, Maya. He preys on the smallest mistakes or signs of weakness. Not attending would be a direct insult, and we can’t afford that, not now.”
Maya
