The snow had started before dawn—silent, steady, a soft white veil over the palace roofs and courtyards. Crown Prince Elion of Aesterra was already awake, seated by the frost-laced window of the guest wing, his fingertips pressed gently against the cold glass. Beyond the gardens, the world was quiet. Still.

Snow always brought that kind of stillness. A hush the world could never quite hold onto.

There was a knock. A servant bowed and said simply, “Her Highness the Crown Princess invites you to the east hall.”

Elion rose, layered his formal robes, and followed the path through golden-lit corridors until he found her—Sue, standing by the tall arched windows of the east gallery, her arms resting lightly on the marble sill.

She didn’t look at him right away.

Outside in the palace garden, a handful of maids and young palace guards were laughing—truly laughing—as snowballs flew through the air. One tumbled behind a bush. Another was struck squarely in the shoulder with a yelp. Snow crunched under booted feet. Laughter echoed.

Sue tilted her head slightly. “They say the North doesn’t know how to enjoy,” she murmured, almost to herself.