After the exhausting meeting with the Empress, Althea's steps toward her room felt heavy. The magnificent palace corridor seemed like an endless, long tunnel, adorned with paintings of noble faces that seemed to stare at her with judgment. She wanted to arrive quickly, isolate herself behind her room door, which at least offered an illusion of security.
However, a sound forced her to stop mid-journey.
The voice was faint, almost swallowed by the rustle of leaves blown in from the open window. It was suppressed sobbing, like someone desperately trying not to be heard.
"Don't interfere," whispered her cautious rationale.
Althea tried to continue, feigning deafness. But then, a familiar streak of long blonde hair caught the wind, glittering softly behind a clump of rose bushes near a small fountain. It was the hair of the Empress's daughter, the girl with the sad eyes she had briefly seen in the tearoom.
