Their departure turned out to be far less dramatic than Mirabelle had expected.
After the chaos of the courtyard, the endless checking of straps, supplies, weapons, food, clothing, gifts, and things Tara had declared absolutely essential to the dignity of a Duchess, Mirabelle had somehow imagined a proper send-off.
Trumpets, perhaps.
A speech.
At least one servant crying dramatically.
Instead, her mother and grandmother stood near the castle gates while the traveling party gathered behind her, both women looking irritatingly calm.
"Be careful," her mother said.
Mirabelle smiled: "I will."
Her grandmother gave her a look that suggested she had heard that exact promise from several generations of women and trusted none of them.
"And remember that you travel as Duchess of Luchsenstein now."
Mirabelle's smile faded into something more serious.
"I know."
