The silence that had gripped the Aldenar mansion for so long had finally been replaced by a frantic, colorful cacophony. It had been exactly one week since Verona had opened her eyes, and the fortress was currently in the throes of a domestic revolution. The scent of medicinal lavender and old dust had been banished, replaced by the mouth-watering aroma of roasting pine-nuts, cinnamon-dusted pastries, and the sharp, clean scent of fresh evergreen boughs being dragged through the stone corridors.
"If I see one more tray of plain medicinal broth, I will personally throw the head chef into the frozen moat," Isella declared, her voice echoing through Verona's private sunroom.
