A mild morning dawned over the royal estate. The sky was a pale blue, as if washed by dew. Aurore walked calmly, her diary pressed to her chest, toward the winter garden. She sought the tranquility of the rosebushes to write, far from the hypocritical flattery of the court or curious glances. Her slender heels clicked gently on the flagstones of the path along the knights' training grounds.

The sound of clashing sabers and shouted orders in the background didn't bother her: she knew almost all of them by heart.

But a thin voice, too young to belong to a soldier, made her stop.

"Princess!"

Before she even had time to turn around, she felt a weight cling to her legs