Return of the General's Daughter

There were more whispers. Lara, who has far better hearing than normal humans, heard their words. They lingered like ghosts, flickering from one corner of the courtyard to another.

Lara could feel their eyes—sharp and assessing—dragging over her plain dress, her travel-worn boots, the braid that hung loose over her shoulder. She held her head high, meeting their curious stares with a gaze that did not waver until Freya’s gentle voice grabbed her attention.

"Husband," she started, her hand grasping Lara’s wrist. "You and Asael can handle the ceremonies if you can’t wait for me. I’ll help Lara get dressed." Her words hung in the air for only a heartbeat before she turned, gliding toward a side door, pulling Lara along with her.

Lara barely had time to glance back, catching a glimpse of Mira standing stiffly, her smile frozen mid-blossom, brittle and unyielding. Freya didn’t look back—didn’t even pause to acknowledge Mira’s presence.

The birthday celebrant remained rooted to the spot, fingers curled against the silken folds of her gown. For two long years, she had filled the emptiness left by Lara’s disappearance, had soothed and served and smiled until her cheeks ached. Now, Freya brushed past her as if she was air. How dare she?

Mira’s chest tightened, her hands smoothing the fabric of her skirts to keep her composure. The smile remained—a delicate thing, perfectly sculpted—but the light in her eyes had dimmed. For a moment, she watched the door through which Freya and Lara had vanished. Her mind swirled with thoughts, which she quickly pushed away. But before she could continue to dwell on the sting of abandonment, she was distracted by a commotion at the door.

A servant burst through the heavy wooden doors, breathless and flushed. His voice rang out, clear and crisp over the murmurs of the guests. "His Highness, Prince Reuben, and Prince Alderan have arrived!"

Gasps were heard from the crowd, especially from the young ladies.

The courtyard shifted like water rippling in a breeze. Heads turned, voices hushed to whispers threaded with excitement and awe.