We walked deeper into the palace in silence.
The corridor opened into a wide hall lined with tall windows. I had expected polished excess—gold, silk, the kind of wealth the Blood Moon Pack had only whispered about. Instead the air itself felt heavy. White candles burned in iron holders along the walls. Fresh white flowers sat in every niche. Portraits of a woman with calm eyes and a gentle mouth hung at regular intervals, each one lit as if someone still expected her to walk past them.
The staff who met us at the next archway bowed low. An older woman in plain gray stepped forward first.
“Welcome to the royal household,” she said. Her voice was careful, respectful. “Rooms have been prepared. If you need anything, you have only to ask.”
She did not say “Your Majesty.” None of them did.
