Footsteps approached—measured, refined, unmistakably noble. And then, behind the trimmed hedges, emerged three figures:
Prince Reuben, elegant and reserved in a dark forest-green riding coat, his thoughtful eyes quickly assessing the chaos.
Prince Alderan, tall and broader, his dark hair catching the afternoon light, immediately raised a brow at the sight of Mira inside the enclosure in nothing but her underthings.
And beside them, Princess Ceres, radiant and poised, stifling a startled laugh behind her gloved fingers.
For a beat, no one spoke. The only sounds were the distant chirping of birds and the faint, satisfied snuffling of the wolf pups.
Mira's face turned the color of boiled beetroot.
"Your Highnesses—" she tried to curtsy but faltered. She remembered that she was only wearing a flimsy peticoat. Her voice cracked as she attempted to regain composure. "This… this..." she stopped as she did not know what to say.
