Lila
The invitation said seven o’clock, sharp. The palace had been a maze of surprises lately; most of them political, few of them pleasant. But this… this felt different.
The greenhouse doors stood open, a warm spill of candlelight flickering out across the frost-covered stone path. For a moment, I hesitated.
Moisture clung to my skin as I stepped through the archway, moonflowers bloomed around me, petals turned up toward the glass ceiling where the stars winked through frost-laced panes.
Dozens of lanterns hovered in the air—floating orbs cradled in enchanted vines, their flames low and golden, casting soft shadows across the garden walls.
At the far end of the space, a table waited. Simple. Round. Set for two.
And standing beside the table, dressed in charcoal gray and lookin
