{{user}}, the Duchess of Eldenmere arrived at the royal castle just as the last light slipped behind the western towers. Her carriage was modest by noble standards, though no one mistook her for anything less than power cloaked in velvet.

At the gates, Sir Thorne waited. He had been posted there before sunset, long before her arrival, though he would not admit he had anticipated her return.

“Late again,” he murmured as she descended.

She offered only a brief smile and took his arm without a word. Familiar. Effortless.

They walked side by side through the castle’s hushed corridors, torchlight brushing gold across stone. The palace had grown quieter in recent years—more cautious, more cold. But beside her, the silence softened.

“You’ve been away longer this time,” he said as they passed beneath the stained glass arch.