The kingdom of Ivanova still smelled of smoke.
Even three weeks after the conquest, the scent lingered in the cold marble halls like a ghost that refused to die. Burned cedar from shattered homes. Melted iron from broken gates. Blood soaked into the ancient stone beneath the castle foundations.
Princess Ariana stood before the shattered window of her chambers, staring down at the ruined capital below.
The city that had once glittered with lanterns and music now crouched beneath a blanket of fear.
And behind her, draped over a velvet chair like a mockery, rested the wedding gown King Alexander had ordered made for her.
White silk.
Silver embroidery.
A conqueror's gift.
Ariana wanted to set it on fire.
"You have not touched your supper again," Serena said quietly from across the room.
Ariana did not turn.
"I would rather starve."
