The late afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the garden in shades of burnt orange and deep purple. The air was cooling, carrying the scent of blooming jasmine and damp earth.
Marissa walked along the stone path, her posture straight and elegant. In her hands, she carried the heavy silver tray. The porcelain bowl sat in the center, the lid keeping the vegetable soup warm. She did not let a maid carry it. She did not let a guard touch it. She walked alone, her steps measured and silent.
She reached the white stone pavilion that stood in the center of the garden. Ashlyn was already there. She sat on a cushioned bench, leaning back comfortably. She held a silk fan in one hand, moving it slowly back and forth, though the heat of the day had already passed. She looked like a queen holding court.
Ashlyn looked up as Marissa entered the pavilion. Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and mockery.
