Luna reveled in it. She absorbed the attention the way dry earth drinks rain, and every offering made her stand a little straighter, her voice a little louder, her gestures a little more expansive. She was a woman playing queen in a kingdom that had never been hers.
She strutted toward me. Stepped over me. Looked down with the kind of satisfaction that only comes from someone who has imagined this exact tableau.
"See that?" she said, her voice silk over broken glass. "This is the power of money and influence."
She crouched just enough to bring her face closer to mine.
"Someone like you. A nobody mistress. You'll spend your whole life spreading your legs, hoping for scraps from men."
She straightened. Smoothed her skirt.
"But me? I get to enjoy the kind of glory you'll never even dream of reaching."
Her voice hardened. The performance fell away, and what was underneath was something colder, something that had been planning this for a long time.
"I'll give you one day. Take your bastard daughter and get out of this city. If I see you anywhere near my husband again, I'll bury that little brat of yours alive."
The courtyard went quiet for a single, held breath.