The emotional moment was shattered by a sharp knock on the door.
A royal lady-in-waiting stood in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral, her hands clasped in front of her. Her voice was polite but firm.
"Your Highness, I apologize for the interruption. But per tradition, you must retire to your chambers. The night before the ceremony, the mates are not to be together."
Iva wanted to argue. Wanted to cling to her mother, to Caleb, to this perfect moment that felt too fragile to let go.
But she understood.
Tradition was tradition.
She nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
"Of course. I understand."
Caleb stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said softly. "At the altar."
Iva smiled through her tears. "I'll be the one in
