NORA’S POV
It was my fifth morning at the palace.
Derek had left a short note on my bedside table: Eat. Take care of yourself. I love you.
I read it twice before tucking it away, smiling like a fool.
Princess Lyra had been making things easier, dragging me to the city, filling my closet with clothes I was too scared to touch. One gown she bought was worth ten thousand dollars. I kept opening the closet just to stare at it.
Today was the start of my “orientation.” Not warrior training—Derek called it something else. A kind of shaping. Learning to hold my head up in the royal court, to speak without trembling, to stand without being pushed aside.
I dressed in a soft tunic and fitted dark pants. A knock came.
“Yes?”
The door opened to reveal the older woman, Derek said will handle
