Spring came gently to Suffox.
The frost receded from the hills, leaving the fields tender and bright.
The river behind the estate shimmered beneath pale sun, and the air carried the faint sweetness of blooming apple trees.
For the first time in years, the Grand Duchy was filled not with tension or whispers of war, but laughter — soft, unhurried, like the sound of life remembering itself.
Serena Maxwell — soon to be Grand Duchess of Suffox — stood before the mirror in her chamber.
Her gown was simple: ivory silk, unadorned but for the lace tracing her shoulders.
No crown, no diamonds, only a small gold pin at her collar — the same one Charlton had given her on the night they found their way back to each other.
She had worn finer things once.
But never anything that felt as wholly hers as this.
Emily Evans entered without knocking, her own dress of rose-gray satin catching the sunlight.
"It suits you," she said quietly, voice full of affection.
