Morning broke over Nyxeria like a soft song of gold and scarlet. The palace bells chimed at dawn, announcing the arrival of the first envoys.
From her window, Aurelia watched the royal carriages roll through the gates — glistening jewels of color against the silver courtyard. The banners of distant kingdoms fluttered proudly in the wind.
Each carriage gleamed with its own arrogance, its guards polished and stern, their spears reflecting the light of the sun.
Below her balcony, attendants rushed to and fro — bowing, guiding, and directing the guests to their quarters. The royal heralds' voices echoed through the marble halls, announcing titles longer than Aurelia's patience.
She leaned her chin on her hand, watching.
"Lyra," she murmured. "They're here."
Her maid looked up from folding the morning linens. "Already? The schedule said noon!"
Aurelia smiled faintly. "Kings never arrive on time. They arrive dramatically."
