As Veylira stepped slowly toward the carriage waiting beneath the soft glow of lanterns, she found herself breathing carefully, measuredly, trying to settle the fluttering nerves that stirred gently in her chest.
Her heart seemed determined to betray her, beating just a little too fast, a sensation she had almost forgotten over the years spent ruling from shadows and standing calmly through storm after storm.
The evening air was cool and fragrant with the scent of night jasmine blooming along the palace path, a comforting whisper in the twilight.
Yet despite the familiar surroundings, her pulse quickened, the flutter of nervous anticipation growing stronger with each careful step she took.
The carriage, painted a polished black lacquer with silver detailing, was drawn by two sleek, silver-flecked horses that snorted softly into the night air, shifting restlessly. And standing casually by the carriage door, leaning with a confident ease, was Raveth.
