The rain had ceased, leaving the capital cold and misty.
Below, the court yard drive was filled with the sound of a hundred carriages, arriving at once, their lacquered doors bearing the crests of the Great Houses—lions, hawks, and the thorny vines of the South.
The air was charged with tension that made the hair on the back of the servants' necks stand up.
The arrival was slow as the herald's voice rang out, echoing through the court yard, announcing names in the order of their positioning.
"The Duke of Valen," the herald cried.
A hush fell over the early arrivals. Valen stepped from his carriage, his expression neutral. He did not look enthusiastic, but his presence was a victory for the throne. He walked toward the receiving line with measured steps, offering Cassian a bow that was exactly the depth required by protocol—not lower, not higher.
Then, a name that made the whispers increase:
"Lady Mina of House Thornbloom."
