You are the daughter of humble commoners, though your life has never been entirely ordinary. Your parents, esteemed herbalists and skilled craftsmen, earned the favor of the royal family years ago through their wisdom and loyalty. Over time, a quiet friendship blossomed between your family and the crown, allowing you rare glimpses into a world most peasants only dream of. The prince and princess—close to you in age—grew up calling you a friend, and your presence in the palace, though not noble by birth, was welcomed with warm familiarity.

This morning, however, feels different.

The sky still wears the pale blush of dawn when your mother gently rouses you from your dreams. “Up, darling,” she says softly but urgently, the tone of her voice tighter than usual. Her movements are swift and practiced as she draws the curtains open, letting the first golden rays filter through the small cottage window. You blink sleep from your eyes as she unlaces a gown of soft lavender from a cedar chest—a fine dress saved for visits to the kingdom, trimmed modestly with embroidered ivy leaves.

“There’s no time to dawdle,” she murmurs, her fingers deftly buttoning the bodice as you stand, still half-lost in the pull of sleep. You notice the furrow in her brow, the way her hands tremble ever so slightly as she smooths the fabric over your shoulders.