A carriage rolled to a gentle stop before an elegant mansion.
The coachman climbed down from his seat and hurried to open the carriage door. Extending a gloved hand, he helped the passenger inside descend with practiced courtesy.
Princess Niaya stepped onto the stone driveway with effortless grace.
Only a few days earlier, while she was still in Tronval, she had received an invitation to a lavish soirée. At the time, she had every intention of declining. However, after returning to Weathbrow, she had unexpectedly changed her mind.
She was dressed in a flowing yellow gown that swayed softly with every step. Her hair had been gathered into a neat, elegant style, with every strand perfectly in place.
"Princess Niaya."
A middle-aged woman approached, her dark hair streaked with a few strands of silver. She lowered herself into a respectful bow before lifting her head with a warm smile.
"I am delighted that you accepted my invitation, Your Highness."
