(Rosaline POV)
Winter arrived without ceremony.
It crept into the palace through stone and breath, settling into cloaks and corridors alike. The Imperial Council Chamber—vast and circular, with its domed ceiling etched in the likeness of ancient dragons—felt colder than usual despite the braziers burning along its walls.
I stood beside Arthur as the council assembled.
Not behind him.
Beside him.
That alone drew attention.
Nobles took their seats in practiced silence, heavy robes whispering against polished stone. Some bowed deeply to Arthur. Others offered measured inclinations of the head to me—careful, cautious, curious.
Future Crown Princess.
The title clung to me now, whether spoken or not.
I kept my posture straight, my expression composed, though something tight coiled in my chest. The summons had been abrupt. No agenda circulated beforehand. No advance whispers—only a command sealed with the Emperor's crest.
