Chapter 90
Ophelia sat on a stone bench in the palace garden, absently plucking petals from a rose while her closest friend, Isla, chatted beside her. The late morning sun cast a warm glow across the trimmed hedges and marble fountains, but Ophelia’s mind was far away, still thinking about Federico’s impending coronation.
They were interrupted when a maid hurried toward them, bowing politely. “My Lady,” the maid said, holding out a sealed letter.
Ophelia frowned and took it, turning it over in her hand. The royal crest glinted in the light. “Who sent this?” she asked.
“The King’s office, My Lady. It was marked urgent.”
Ophelia dismissed the maid and broke the seal. Her eyes scanned the words quickly, her brow furrowing. Then her lips curled into a half-smile.
“Well?” Isla asked eager
