Back inside, Helena was selecting a lemon tart from the buffet. She wasn't hungry, but she needed to do something with her hands.
She sensed a presence before she heard it. The air grew heavy with cloying perfume.
Morgana Vane slid up next to her, holding a glass of red wine dangerously close to Helena's dress.
"Eating your feelings, Helena?" Morgana sneered.
Helena didn't look up. She inspected the tart. "Fueling, Morgana. Some of us have responsibilities that don't involve clinging to men for relevance."
Morgana laughed. It was a brittle sound, like glass breaking. "Responsibilities? Like keeping your husband from finding out the truth?"
Helena froze mid-bite. She placed the tart back on the plate.
She turned slowly to face Morgana. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
Morgana stepped closer, emboldened by the wine and Cason's earlier confidence. "Don't I? Cason told me everything. London. The accident. The sacrifice."
Helena's eyes turned to absolute ice. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but her face remained stone.
"Cason lies," Helena said softly. "And you are a fool for listening."
Morgana sneered, her lips curling back. "You don't belong here, Helena. You act like royalty, but we all know." She dropped her gaze to Helena's left hand. "You aren't good stock. Broken goods."
The insult hung in the air. Broken goods. A direct attack on her injury, on her worth as a woman and a mother.
Helena placed her plate down on the table with deliberate calm. She straightened to her full height. She was an inch taller than Morgana, but in that moment, she looked ten feet tall.
"My 'stock' built this city, Morgana," Helena said, her voice carrying a lethal quietness. "Yours just rents space in it."
It was a devastating verbal slap. Simple. Accurate. Cruel.
Morgana's face flushed an ugly, blotchy red. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish.
Guests nearby stopped talking. The silence spread. They sensed blood in the water.
Dana Zhu was rushing over, spotting the tension from across the room.
Morgana, losing control, raised her voice. "You think you're so superior!"
Helena turned to walk away. She was done with this.
This dismissal triggered Morgana's ultimate weapon. She couldn't win the battle of wits, so she decided to burn the building down.
Morgana inhaled to shout.
Helena sensed the escalation. She stopped and looked back, challenging her. Do it. Make a fool of yourself.
