Claudia woke to sunlight that felt too bright. Her chambers smelled of lavender, her mother insisted servants placed in cloth sachets by the windows.
She was still in yesterday's dress, wrinkled and uncomfortable against skin that ached in ways she didn't have words for yet.
She sat up slowly. Her hands shook when she touched her throat, fingertips finding the spot where the obsidian blade had pressed but there was no mark. Just the lingering memory.
The window attracted her as she crossed the room and looked over Valeroy from the elevated view of the castle.
The morning market was bustling with sounds drifting in from the lower city. Normal life continuing like nothing had changed. But everything had changed.
Somewhere down there, Lorain was probably writing poetry about honor and justice and challenging princes to duels he couldn't possibly win.
