"The Warden?"
The carriage's wooden wheels settled into silence on a forest glade unlike any Barbara had seen. The scent of evergreen mingled with damp earth, and distant frogs croaked mournfully beneath a moon veiled by drifting clouds. Inside, the kitchenette's stainless sink and compact stove gleamed—an otherworldly contrast to the ancient woodland beyond the frosted window.
Barbara Northern Seventh placed a slender hand upon the counter, her ebony waves falling in soft curls around a porcelain face framed by high cheekbones. Sapphire orbs, clear as the kingdom's northern fjords, darted from the lantern-lit fixtures to the tall man before her. Her beauty rivaled Eleonora's noble poise, and even in the cramped space, she radiated quiet authority.
Her breath stuttered like a sparrow's wings as she fought to steady her voice. "Prove it," she commanded, voice low but resolute. "Show me you are what you claim."
