"They better not try matchmaking me with another elf man again," she muttered under her breath. "If they do… I'm running away. Again."
Her voice was calm, but her eyes were serious. The memory of her thirteen-year-old self bolting out of the house still lingered—how she ran off rather than marry a 'suitable suitor' handpicked by her father. That freedom, the adventure, and the path that led her to Armand… she never regretted it.
With a soft sigh, she began adjusting her hair in front of the mirror. She brushed it out and tied it gently into a side braid, leaving a few elegant strands to frame her face. Simple, neat, and elven.
Just as she tucked the last braid behind her ear—
Knock knock.
"Miss Liana," a voice came from the door, pushing it open slightly. One of the housemaids stood there, polite and calm. "Madam Viessa is calling."
Liana raised a brow. "Hmm? Okay."
"She's waiting in her room."
Liana nodded. "Got it. Thanks."
