THE NEXT FEW days pass in a strange sort of peace.
Daciana reports to my door every morning now, her knock sharp and efficient. When I open it, she’s already in full guard mode—hand resting on her sword hilt, eyes scanning the corridor like threats might materialize from the shadows.
“Ready?” she asks, falling into step beside me.
I nod, adjusting the satchel of medical supplies on my shoulder.
“Elara wants to work in the greenhouse today. Something about testing a new growth serum.”
“Of course she does.” Daciana grins. “She’s obsessed with those plants.”
The walk to Elara’s side of the palace has become routine. Daciana keeps up a steady stream of commentary—gossip from the guards, complaints about new recruits, stories that make me laugh despite myself. The additional guard Seth as
