I stood in the center of the Royal Sanctuary, sunlight filtering through the ancient trees that towered above me. The air was alive with magic—not the violent, crackling power that my ancestors had once wielded in desperate battles, but a gentle, nurturing energy that seemed to pulse with each breeze.
"Your Grace, the delegation from the mountain clans has arrived," my steward announced, approaching with a respectful bow.
I nodded, smoothing down my simple green dress. As Isabella Thorne the Third, I'd chosen to meet them here rather than in the formal reception hall of the duchy. This place held more significance for our discussion than any marble chamber ever could.
"Send them in, Roland. And remind them they may speak freely here."
