Morning sunlight slanted across Metheea's chambers, catching on silk curtains and the carved legs of the table where her ladies sat. The air carried the faint scent of roses from the gardens below, though the palace still hummed with talk of last night's proclamation.
Kalistra's brush glided through Metheea's hair. Resme sorted through a stack of papers. Fiona lingered near the door, her fingers tugging restlessly at her apron.
"They say the cheers outside lasted till dawn," Kalistra said with a smile in her voice. "The Regent has given Katarthan new fire."
"And everyone will want to prove their loyalty now," Resme added, tapping the papers. "There will be gifts, invitations, endless requests. The first question is which ball the Princess will attend. The House of Lirath has already sent word."
Metheea raised her hand to silence her. Her eyes had drifted to Fiona, who fidgeted more with every passing moment.
