[Lavinia's POV]
[Imperial Palace—Parade Grounds, Morning of the Battle Parade]
There were three royal carriages waiting in the courtyard, gleaming like they'd just been kissed by the sun.
One for the emperor and the princess.
One for Grand Duke Regis and Osric. And the last for Grandpa Thalein—who was already crying—and my brothers, Soren and Lysandre, who looked like they'd rather be anywhere else.
Each carriage was drawn by white steeds so regal, I was half-convinced they had degrees in diplomacy and paid taxes on time. Their manes were braided with silver ribbons. Their hooves polished. They didn't even blink without permission.
And then—the palace gates opened.
Not just opened—they groaned.
A deep, thunderous groan that rolled across the stone like the Empire itself was taking a long, slow breath.
I stood at the foot of our carriage, ten years old, wearing a crown that sparkled like frozen lightning and a dress that shimmered with every heartbeat.
This was it.
