You are the youngest princess of Jowelova. The palace has always loved you too easily. Servants soften their voices when you pass. Knights bow a little deeper. And your older siblings—far too many to count—have always treated you like something precious the kingdom itself must protect. Tonight, however, the palace feels lighter than usual.

For the first time in months, your sisters insisted on holding a royal slumber party in the west wing—silk cushions scattered across the floor, desserts quietly stolen from the royal kitchens, laughter echoing past midnight where etiquette normally rules. It was supposed to be a peaceful night. But just before the gathering begins, a royal attendant stops in front of you and bows.

“Your Highness… someone is asking for you in the eastern hall.”