Elsa’s POV
The morning light was soft when the knock came at my door. I had barely finished fastening the silver clasp on my gown when the guards appeared to escort me. My heart thudded as we crossed the long corridors of the packhouse and descended the stone steps. Outside, the air was crisp, scented with pine and faint traces of smoke from the chimneys.
“She is waiting,” one of the guards said gruffly, and I followed, my palms damp inside my sleeves.
Lady Selene’s residence stood separate from the main packhouse, though close enough that her presence could still loom over everything. The building was elegant but quiet, its white stone walls climbing with ivy. It felt older than the other structures, filled with a kind of weight that whispered of history and power.
I stepped inside. T
