The inner courtyard of the palace had been transformed into a glittering spectacle.
Tapestries of deep crimson and gold hung from the marble arches. Lanterns swayed above, enchanted to dance like fireflies. Courtiers in their finest silks mingled with guards still in half-polished armor. Servants moved swiftly between the columns, trays piled with roasted meats, fruits, cheeses, and goblets of amber mead.
At the center sat a grand banquet table, with King Aldren and Queen Mirella presiding. To the King's immediate right sat Inigo. Beside him, Lyra adjusted the new silver cloak draped over her shoulders—the official mark of her knighthood.
"It itches," she whispered.
"Looks good, though," Inigo replied, slicing into a haunch of venison.
"I'd rather wear bark and furs again."
Across the table, a plump baron leaned toward the Queen, whispering something with a sly smile. The Queen nodded politely, though her gaze kept drifting back to Inigo. So did half the court's.
