The council hall hummed with murmurs of dissent, the low voices of the throne’s advisors rippling through the room like whispers in a storm. Men clad in rich robes of deep crimson and forest green filled the space, each decorated with insignias representing generations of loyalty to the kingdom. Yet, for all their symbols of fealty, I felt their doubt piercing through me, questioning my right to make the choices I had proposed.
Standing tall before them, I drew a steady breath. I, Lourdes—reborn as Princess Mitchell and now their Queen—was here to ensure the kingdom’s strength endured beyond their narrow visions. Our walls were fortified, yes, but fortification was a matter of permanence, not comfort. And I intended to reshape our defenses, bringing ideas from a distant time that none of
