Six days remained.
And the palace had officially stopped pretending to be normal.
It was no longer a place.
It was an event.
A living, breathing preparation for a future that refused to sit still.
Somewhere between sunrise and the first round of arguments over table placements, Aliena decided she was already tired.
And the day had barely started.
---
The morning began, as always, with movement.
Too much movement.
Too many voices.
Too many people insisting they were absolutely correct about the placement of things that did not seem important enough to argue about for three hours.
Aliena stood in the middle of it all.
Completely still.
Holding a cup of tea she no longer remembered receiving.
"…Why are there seven versions of a seating chart?" she asked quietly.
The wedding planner appeared instantly.
"Because people keep disagreeing with reality."
"That's not an answer."
"It is in weddings."
Aliena slowly turned her head toward the chaos.
