Once Maribel had helped me dress in a gown befitting my standing, the oppressive weight of the morning finally began to lift. She worked with efficient, quiet care, smoothing the fine silk of my skirts and ensuring every clasp was perfectly in place before she finally stepped back with a nod of approval. Together, we left the quiet stillness of my chambers and walked down the long, echoing stone corridors of the palace.
Maribel led the way with a purposeful stride, her chin held high as she directed our path toward the heavy, gilded doors of the throne room. As we drew nearer to the grand entrance of the throne room, the thick oak doors did little to muffle the heated voices echoing from within, immediately causing me to break my stride. I raised a hand to signal Maribel to pause, tilting my head as I caught the sharp exchange passing between the walls.
