The palace gates had seen many arrivals.
Nobles in gilded carriages.
Envoys bearing sealed letters.
Generals returning from distant campaigns.
But the young man who rode in just after dawn did not arrive like any of them.
He did not slow.
He did not wait.
He did not care for ceremony.
"Open the gates!"
The guards stiffened at the voice.
Not because it was loud.
But because it carried something sharper than authority.
Urgency.
The rider pulled his horse to a halt just short of the main archway, dust still clinging to his dark cloak, boots marked by days of travel.
Prince Corvin Solaryn.
Recognition struck instantly.
The guards dropped to one knee.
"Your Highness—"
"I don't have time," Corvin cut in.
His eyes moved past them, already fixed on the palace beyond.
"I need to see my sister."
The guard hesitated only a moment.
"Princess Isolde?"
"Yes."
Corvin swung down from his horse before the man even finished speaking.
"Now."
No formal announcement.
