Valka
It happens during the breakfast hour.
I am being prepared by the maids, their hands finishing the curls in my hair when the guards barged into my chamber and grabbed my arms. I take several deep breaths, steadying myself before asking, "What is the matter?"
I am awarded no response, the guards' grips icy as they force me down step after step. The hallways of the castle are scantier than they were last night and the few maids and courtiers traipsing the halls cast off shadowed, haunted looks as they watch me go by, not at all bothered by this new development.
We stride through two enormous stone doors--not the breakfast halls--but the throne room and I start at the sight of Rafael who lounges in his throne. Between last night and this morning, he'd taken a bath and worked on his appearance. There is more clarity in his eyes than I've seen in them in all the weeks I've been stuck here, and his head is cocked at an observant angle as his eyes trail lazily over me.
