The palace had transformed almost overnight where silence had once lingered in cautious layers after the attack on Valen, there now surged a restless, vibrant energy that seemed to seep into every corridor, every courtyard, every archway touched by morning light.
Servants hurried past one another with armfuls of fabric in shades of red and gold, ladders appeared beneath towering columns, and musicians could already be heard in distant halls rehearsing melodies that rose and fell like anticipation itself.
Preparation for the Red Moon Festival had begun.
From the tall windows of her chamber, Valen watched the activity below with narrowed eyes.
Workers were stringing lanterns along the outer balconies, their glass panes catching the sun so brilliantly that the air shimmered with scattered color.
