Eight more minutes brought Elara to the Emperor's court entrance. Two beast knights flanked the massive doors—different faces from the ones at her wing, but the same red uniforms, the same disciplined stillness. They bowed as she approached.
Elara nodded once in acknowledgment.
The gesture told her something useful: these guards bowed to bloodline, not rank. It didn't matter that she was the Fourth Princess, the forgotten one, the daughter with the wrong surname. Royal blood was royal blood. Their loyalty wasn't personal—it was structural. That made them predictable, which made them valuable.
She waited while one guard stepped inside to announce her. A moment later, he returned and pulled the doors open.
"Her Highness, Fourth Princess Elara Lian of House Blackwood."
The full name. Public and formal. No shortcuts.
Elara stepped through.
