The grand hall of Varestia’s royal palace was silent, save for the soft crackling of the golden candelabras lining the marble walls. Princess Evelyne Rosavell sat stiffly at the long dining table, her hands resting in her lap, posture flawless as always. Across from her, King Aldric and Queen Genevieve ate in the same disciplined silence.

She had spent nineteen years like this—her world reduced to these polished walls, the measured tones of her tutors, the sharp rebukes of her father, and the cold indifference of her mother.