Madeline's POV
The door to my guest chambers slammed shut with enough force to rattle the crystal decanters on the sideboard. I stood in the center of the room, chest heaving, fists clenched so tightly my nails drew blood from my palms.
Violet.
The peasant who had somehow become Luna and was now trying to become queen of everything.
I couldn't breathe through the rage.
With a sharp cry, I swept my arm across the mahogany desk, sending everything on it to the floor. The ink bottle shattered, black liquid spreading like spilled blood across the marble. I grabbed the nearest vase, priceless porcelain from the eastern allies, and hurled it against the far wall. It exploded in a satisfying shower of shards.
Another scream tore from my throat, raw and frustrated, echoing off the stone walls until my voice cracked.
