A few days had passed since the Celestial Queen's tempestuous visit, and the castle had settled into that odd, precarious quiet that always followed a family storm.
Sunlight poured in through Malvoria's office windows, illuminating the maps, letters, and velvet boxes that cluttered her desk.
It was the sort of mess that only came from serious thinking—piled scrolls and color-coded notes and lists of noble houses she was obliged to invite (but dearly wished she could forget).
Malvoria was not alone. This was a family affair, after all.
Elysia sat in a low chair by the hearth, barefoot, one leg slung lazily over the arm, reading over the latest guest list with a look of deep skepticism.
"Do we really have to invite Lord Varnath? Didn't he try to sell you a cursed ring at last year's solstice ball?"
Malvoria pinched the bridge of her nose. "He claims it was a 'misunderstanding'. His wife sent a cake to apologize. It was… dry."
