The palace blazed with light the next evening. Silken banners hung from the golden rafters, and a thousand candles bathed the great hall in honeyed glow. The celebration was in honor of General Rael's return — the king's nephew, the golden soldier of Nyxeria — and the royal musicians were already tuning their instruments as nobles flooded the chamber.
Inside her chamber, Aurelia sat before her mirror, almost breathless. Lyra stood behind her, fastening the final pin in her hair, her eyes shining with pride.
The gown Malion had ordered for her shimmered like liquid moonlight — silver and soft lilac, stitched with pearls that caught every flicker of flame. Her hair was drawn back in gentle curls, her lips painted rose-gold. When she finally looked up, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her.
"By the gods…" she whispered. "Is that really me?"
Lyra beamed. "You look like the queen you were born to be."
Aurelia laughed, rising to her feet. "You're biased."
