Nobles gathered in clusters, dressed in their finest afternoon wear—the ladies in flowing gowns of pastel silks, the occasional lord invited to add gravitas to the gathering. Voices mingled with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant trill of songbirds. Servants moved between the tables with practiced silence, refilling cups and replacing empty plates.
It was a traditional garden tea party—one of the regular social events hosted by the Empress to maintain court relationships and allow noble families to network in a less formal setting than the throne room.
Heena sat at the head of the main table, dressed in a flowing gown of pale gold and cream that made her look like captured sunlight. Her injured wrist was now wrapped in elegant ivory silk that matched her outfit perfectly, the wrapping so artfully done it looked almost like an intentional fashion statement rather than medical necessity. She looked serene, composed, every inch the gracious hostess.
