The candle had burned down to a stub inside the study of the Queen of Cassia. Isla sat hunched over her desk, scrolls and reports scattered around her.
Her eyes were dry, her head pounding, and her thoughts a tangled mess of dragon bones.
She should sleep. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw the Dragon's Physician standing in her court, asking about forging god remains into weapons like she was ordering a new set of cutlery.
Then she heard it.
A commotion from outside?
Raised voices, hurried footsteps, some clatters of guards who had been startled out of their usual stoic silence.
Isla's head snapped up. Her hand drifted instinctively toward the knife she kept in her desk drawer. But then the door to her study burst open.
"My Queen," her butler gasped, his usually composed face flushed with urgency, "Princess Ivy has returne—"
Isla was already moving.
