Nevara
The halls smelled like cinnamon and spiced tea as we made our way to the dining room, Michelle’s arm looped easily through mine, her energy bouncing off the walls like a stray sunbeam that refused to be ignored.
She kept up a steady stream of chatter about the castle’s architecture, her terrible sense of direction, and how the last time she visited, she got locked in the library for three hours because no one heard her yelling from the east wing.
I was still smiling when we stepped into the dining hall, the long table already set with fresh bread, fruit, and silver-domed trays that still let off curls of steam. A maid rushed in to remove the covers as we entered.
Michelle flopped into a chair without hesitation and sighed dramatically. “If I had to wait one more minute, I would’
