The carriages were already ready for the long journey to the capital. The soft clatter of horses' hooves echoed faintly in the courtyard outside. Servants moved quickly across the marble halls, their hurried steps and murmurs carrying the heavy weight of the coming journey.
Inside her chamber, Lydia was already dressed for travel. The spring sun filtered faintly through the tall windows, throwing a golden sheen across her cream dress. The fabric hugged her slender frame with quiet elegance, and the diamonds at her throat caught the light in flashes. Her earrings glimmered as she moved, every detail of her appearance screaming boldness and quiet defiance. She stood tall, her chin lifted, though her eyes betrayed the turmoil stirring inside her.
Xenia was already by her side, fixing the last fold of her sleeve with her usual brisk but loyal care. Lydia's handmaid said nothing, but her presence was steady, firm, the kind of silent reassurance Lydia needed but would never admit aloud.
