Riona sat on the beach, hugging her knees tightly against her chest, her thin skirt fluttering in the breeze.
Since moving to Wintertooth, she had adopted the locals' style—thin layers, only adding a hat or extra clothing during the day to protect herself from the sun.
She had completely forgotten the biting chill of Eira's wind.
This was what she wanted, right?
An escape from the palace of Eira, her uncle's tight grip, and Lisbeth's endless, toddler-like tantrums. Just her and Florian, living the good life without having to worry about blood supply.
But hold on—this was not the fantasy she had concocted in her head. It was off, somehow.
In her mind, everything had been perfect: she and Florian together, every day filled with peace and quiet moments shared in harmony.
Instead, here she was, absent-mindedly play with the sand as if the world wasn't crashing down around them, while her brother was handcuffed with her red aura.
