Lord Theodore gestured for Lilliana and Viviana to precede him. They stepped across the threshold into a vast hallway. The floors were paved with polished dark marble that reflected their figures. The air was cool, almost cold, and heavy with the pervasive, cloying scent of white lilies – hundreds of them, arranged in towering funereal displays along the corridor. It was a beautiful but somber fragrance.
Guards in the silver and black uniform of Eldoria lined the hallway at regular intervals, their expressions unreadable, their hands resting on the pommels of their swords. They stood as still as statues, their eyes following the newcomers. Above them were massive framed portraits of past Eldorian monarchs . The silence was broken only by the soft rustle of their gowns and the distant, echoing click of their heels on the marble.
Lilliana, already pale, seemed to shrink a little under the oppressive splendor. She leaned closer to Viviana, her voice a whisper. "I'm so nervous, Vi. My palms are sweating. This place… it feels like a tomb."
Viviana didn't look at her. Her gaze was constantly moving, absorbing details – the spacing of the guards, the alcoves that might offer cover, the direction of intersecting corridors. She carried a small, ornate wooden chest, a gift from Tobit to Eldoria, holding it carefully. "You should be," she replied, her voice quiet and flat.
Lilliana blinked, her eyes widening slightly. A flicker of hurt crossed her face. "That… that was a joke, right, Vi? You're trying to make me laugh?"
Viviana finally turned her head, her lips curving into a soft, reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course, Lily. Just a little jest to lighten the mood. Don't fret so."
But it wasn't a joke. Behind her carefully constructed soft smile, Viviana's mind was a mixture of calculations. The guards' patrol patterns seem regular, almost too regular. Predictable. The exits are numerous, but likely heavily monitored.
"I need to identify the blind spots, the less-traveled servant passages. The timing of guard changes will be crucial. I need access to his schedule, his daily habits – when he eats, when he sleeps, when he trains. Observe how he moves, who he trusts, who his enemies within this court might be… and then, I will strike when he is most vulnerable, when no one, least of all him, expects." She did the calculations in her head.
They followed Lord Theodore down the long corridor, their footsteps echoing in the unnerving silence, until they reached a pair of massive oak doors, even larger and more elaborate than the entrance. A Palace Chamberlain with a booming voice, stood before them.
Lord Theodore nodded to him. The Chamberlain struck the floor three times with a heavy staff. "Presenting Her Highness, Princess Lilliana of Tobit," his voice resonated through the hall, "and her Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Viviana!"
The great oak doors swung open, revealing the throne room. It was a vast, imposing chamber, even more grand and serious than the hallway. High, arched windows let in muted light that glinted off the silver threads in the massive curtains. Banners bearing the stark silver wolf's head emblem of Eldoria hung from the rafters.
Courtiers, nobles and ministers, dressed in rich but somber hues, stood assembled in silent rows, their faces turned towards the newcomers. At the far end of the room, upon a raised dais, sat a woman on an imposing throne carved from dark wood. Queen Diana.
She was beautiful, with silver-streaked dark hair drawn back neatly in a clean bun and her eyes, a startling shade of brown, were sharp and assessing. "She must be the Queen Regent", Viviana thought, "ruling until Prince Dominic is crowned."
Lord Theodore escorted them a short way into the room, then bowed to them and to the Queen, before retreating to join the other courtiers. Lilliana and Viviana, now alone, proceeded down the long central aisle. Lilliana trembled slightly, her eyes fixed on the Queen, but she moved with a grace drilled into her since childhood.
Viviana continued her silent assessment, her gaze sweeping the room, noting the positions of the royal guards flanking the throne, the number of courtiers, the other exits.
They reached the foot of the dais and sank into deep, respectful curtsies.
The Queen's voice, when she spoke, was clear and commanding, yet not unkind. "Princess Lilliana of Tobit, Lady Viviana. Welcome to Eldoria. We have been… anticipating your arrival with great interest." Her gaze lingered on Lilliana with a hint of warmth, then shifted to Viviana, becoming more neutral, more appraising.
Lilliana rose, taking the small, ornate chest from Viviana. "Your Majesty," she said, her voice a little breathless but steady, "my father, King Roland of Tobit, entrusted me to present this to you. It is a symbol of our kingdoms' new, and hopefully enduring, alliance."
A high-ranking guard, his breastplate gleaming, stepped forward from the Queen's left and took the chest from Lilliana. With steady hands, he opened it and drew out a scrolled parchment, tied with a ribbon of Tobit's royal blue. He unrolled it slightly, revealing the flourishing signature of King Roland and the clear impression of Tobit's royal seal in dark blue wax. He presented this to the Queen, who inclined her head and inspected it briefly but carefully.
"The seal of Tobit is true, and the terms are as agreed," the Queen declared, her voice resonating through the silent hall. "This document formalizes the alliance between our great kingdoms and, with it, the sacred union between our noble houses."
She then raised her voice slightly. "Dominic," she called out, her gaze sweeping towards the main doors. "Your presence is required. Your bride-to-be has arrived, and the treaty is affirmed."
A moment of silence hung in the air. There was no response. Viviana saw a slight tightening around the Queen's lips, a flicker of impatience in her brown eyes.
Lord Theodore stepped forward from the ranks of courtiers, bowing low. "Your Majesty, if I may," he said, his voice apologetic. "Forgive His Highness's tardiness. He returned but moments ago from a rather… strenuous morning hunt. The stag led him a merry chase through the Northern Woods. He is making all haste to present himself appropriately."
The Queen nodded curtly, a silent reprimand in the gesture, though a hint of exasperation softened her expression for a fleeting second.
Just as she might have been about to comment further, the Chamberlain's voice boomed once more from the entrance. "Announcing His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Dominic of Eldoria!"
The great oak doors swung open again. All eyes turned. And Prince Dominic entered.
Viviana, from her position slightly behind Lilliana, shifted subtly to ensure she had a clear, unobstructed view. Her target.
He was, indeed, much taller than his cousin Theodore, with an imposing, athletic build that spoke of strength and agility. His black hair, still slightly damp as if recently washed, was slicked back from a high forehead, revealing intelligent, piercing blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing. He was dressed impeccably in a close-fitting black tunic embroidered with silver thread, dark breeches, and highly polished black riding boots that reached his knees – attire that was regal yet practical, hinting at his recent activity.
What caught Viviana's attention most, however, was the scar. It was a thin, pale line that ran from just under his left eye, diagonally across his high cheekbone, disappearing towards his jaw. It was not disfiguring; rather, it lent his undeniably handsome face a dangerous, rugged edge. Viviana noted it dispassionately – an identifying mark, a story of a fight won or perhaps narrowly survived.
He moved with a confident, almost predatory grace, his gaze sweeping the room but pointedly ignoring Lilliana and Viviana as he strode directly to his mother's side. He bowed, kissed her offered hand, and then seated himself on a smaller, yet still ornate, chair placed slightly lower than the Queen's throne, to her right.
"My apologies for the delay, Mother," he said, his voice deep and calm, carrying easily through the hall. "The stag was particularly elusive this morning, a wily old beast."
The Queen regarded him, her expression a mixture of sternness and annoyance. "Dominic," she said, her voice low but firm enough for those nearby, including Viviana, to hear clearly, "an elusive stag, however wily, is no excuse for keeping your future bride and our honored guests from Tobit waiting. Punctuality is a virtue,one you would do well to cultivate, especially as a future king."
Prince Dominic inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Your correction is noted, and accepted, Mother."
The Queen then smiled, a genuine smile that transformed her stern features. She stood, her silver-streaked hair catching the light. "Let it be known throughout Eldoria and Tobit!" she announced, her voice ringing with authority. "The alliance between our kingdoms is sealed! The coronation of Crown Prince Dominic, my son, will take place, as planned, in one hundred days from this very date. Following his ascension to the throne as King of Eldoria, his wedding to Her Highness, Princess Lilliana of Tobit, will commence without delay, further cementing the joyous and prosperous bond between our great nations!"
A series of agreement murmurs and polite applause rippled through the assembled court. "Long live Eldoria!" someone cried. "A most joyous union!"
The Queen then gestured to an older woman with a serious bun and a large chatelaine of keys at her waist. Matron Helga, Head of the Royal household staff. "Matron Helga, ensure Princess Lilliana and Lady Viviana are escorted to their prepared chambers in the West Wing. See to it that they have everything they need for their comfort and convenience during their stay with us."
Matron Helga curtsied stiffly. "It will be done, Your Majesty. To the letter."
Throughout the Queen's announcements and instructions, Viviana had been acutely aware of Prince Dominic's gaze. It wasn't the curious or appraising look one might expect him to direct at his future bride.
Instead, his piercing blue eyes kept drifting towards Viviana herself. There was no interest in them, no flicker of attraction. It was a cold, assessing scrutiny, sharp and unsettling. A distinct, almost palpable wave of dislike emanated from him whenever his eyes rested on her. He seemed to study her calm, composed demeanor with suspicion, as if he sensed something hidden beneath the polite facade of a lady-in-waiting.