Hyperia cleaned her blades with dry cloth. She laid out her best gown, a silken affair with exposed shoulders and gold sequins stitched in five-pointed stars down the bodice. She polished her calfskin slippers until they gleamed with candlelight. A cloak of pure gold cloth with exquisite beading in the shape of flames completed her outfit for tomorrow. On the bedside table, her pearls and diamonds stood in rows like soldiers awaiting a command.

“Good,” she breathed at last, spotless and ready for her destiny.

She didn’t need to turn around to know that Julia waited at the foot of the bed. She’d be smiling ghoulishly, serenely, like always.

“There was a reason for what I did,” Hyperia said, laying her jeweled dagger in her lap. “Don’t worry.” Hyperia checked for Julia’s reflection in the mirror of her blade. “You’re going to be so proud that I killed you.”