The bells of Evandale's gates tolled with a low echo, as though the mansion itself whispered of an arrival too grand, too dangerous. The air was heavy, perfumed with autumn roses that lined the courtyard, though their fragrance did little to soften the chill that crept across the stones.
Elric had heard the name whispered before the announcement reached his ears: Princess Elara of Aldwyn. His heart staggered at the news, a ripple beneath the calm surface of his composure. For what reason could the daughter of Aldwyn, cloaked in her kingdom's pride and steel, walk through the gates of Evandale uninvited?
