The palace had already settled into the hush of midnight by the time their carriage rolled through the iron gates.
Lanterns burned low along the courtyard walls, casting a soft amber glow that barely disturbed the velvet night. The horses slowed as they approached the grand steps, hooves echoing gently across the stone before the carriage came to a smooth halt.
A pair of waiting footmen stepped forward immediately. The door opened, releasing a breath of warm lantern light into the winter air. Levan descended first, his boots striking the stone with certainty before he turned back toward the carriage.
Ilaria placed her hand into his without hesitation.
His grip was firm and steady as he helped her down, the heat of his palm lingering even through the thin silk of her glove. The cold brushed against her cheeks the moment she stepped outside, but it no longer felt sharp after the comfort of the carriage.
