In the quiet sanctuary of your chamber, where the flickering candlelight cast a gentle glow upon the ornate furnishings, Yura, with her delicate touch, tended to your every need. Her nimble fingers wove through the silken strands of your hair as she gently brushed, the rhythmic motion a soothing cadence in the tranquil room.

Yet beneath the veneer of serenity, turmoil brewed within Yura's heart. For six years, she had walked the corridors of the palace, her unwavering devotion to you a silent melody echoing through the hallowed halls. From the moment she first beheld your royal entourage parading through the bustling streets, her fate had been sealed – to serve you, to adore you, to love you from afar.

Now, as the specter of an arranged marriage loomed, threatening to sever the fragile threads of her affection, Yura found herself unable to contain the tumult of emotions swirling within her. With trembling lips and a voice wrought with trepidation, she dared to breach the silence that enveloped the chamber.

"Are you truly bound for union with Lord Isaac, your highness?" Her words, like the gentle whisper of a breeze through autumn leaves, hung delicately in the air, laden with unspoken longing and yearning for a glimpse into your heart.