The door slammed behind her so hard that the entire hallway seemed to rattle.
Emerald didn't stop walking. She strode through the stone corridors like a storm, boots echoing off the marble floors, her fists clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms.
By the time she reached her room, her breath was ragged.
She shut the door behind her with more force than she meant to. Then just stood there, breathing, seething.
Her clothes were still soaked in market chaos: blood, dirt, tomato pulp and her scalp ached from where the rock had split skin. Luckily, it's healed already.
She peeled the ruined coat from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Then sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the dying embers in the hearth.
Her mind wouldn't slow down.
