Morning unfolded quietly across the palace, its light pale and delicate as it slipped through the tall windows and stretched across the marble floors.
Guards remained stationed at intervals tighter than before, their alert eyes missing little, yet the tension that lingered seemed more controlled now, as though the palace itself had decided it would not fracture under fear.
Georgia walked those corridors with measured steps, a small tray balanced carefully in her hands.
Glass vials clinked softly against one another with each movement, their contents catching the light in shades of amber, crimson, and gold. Fresh bandages lay folded beside them, their linen stark against the dark wood.
She had barely slept, each time she closed her eyes, she saw again the arrow buried deep in Valen's flesh, the unnatural angle of her body, the alarming stillness that followed the first rush of blood.
