Morning came far too quickly.
The palace bell tolled, echoing through the stone halls like a funeral drum. Selena woke with the hawk charm pressed to her chest, its edges leaving faint imprints on her skin. For a moment, she clung to the warmth of her dream—of wings cutting through the storm—but the chill in the air snapped her back into reality.
Her chamber door swung open without warning. Two maids entered, their expressions tight, their hands efficient. They did not speak to her as they dressed her in a plain gray gown, neither servant's rags nor noble silkssomething in between, as though she did not belong to either world. A thin veil was placed over her hair, but it felt more like a shroud.
When they were done, one of them whispered, "The Queen waits," before leading her into the corridors.
