Verona sat at the head of the table, sipping her tea. The "Winter-Leaf" blend tasted like victory. Across the table, Marien was doing her best to look unimpressed, but the way her eyes kept darting toward the silver-tiered stands betrayed her envy. She looked like a starving cat watching a feast through a glass window.
Bla-re!
The conversation died instantly. The heavy iron gates, which had just closed behind the last servant, swung wide once more.
"Is it the Queen?" the Duchess of Solene whispered, clutching her pearls. "Is she actually coming?"
But it was not the white-and-gold royal carriage that entered. Instead, a single rider on a black steed, flanked by two Royal Guards, trotted into the courtyard. The rider wore the distinct crimson and gold livery of the Royal Herald.
He dismounted with a flourish, carrying a small, square cushion covered in velvet. He marched directly to where Verona sat, bypassing everyone else.
