"See you tonight then, my princess…" Mr. Genevra intoned, his voice dripping with practiced awe, as though he were addressing a goddess.
With a final, lingering look, he turned and began his descent from the temple steps, his mercenaries falling into step behind him. Knights and servants moved to escort them, their armor clinking softly as the procession vanished down the marble stairway.
For a few long heartbeats, silence hung heavy in the temple corridor. None of them moved until the sound of boots and voices faded into the distance, leaving only the faint echo of Genevra's words clinging to the air.
The moment they was certain they were alone, Olga wheeled toward the princess in a swift motion. She seized the princess's hand without a word and pulled her toward the nearest basin of water set against the wall. The gesture was forceful but not unkind, protective, almost ritualistic.
