Return of the General's Daughter

Footsteps approached—measured, refined, unmistakably noble. And then, behind the trimmed hedges, emerged three figures:

Prince Reuben, elegant and reserved in a dark forest-green riding coat, his thoughtful eyes quickly assessing the chaos.

Prince Alderan, tall and broader, his dark hair catching the afternoon light, immediately raised a brow at the sight of Mira inside the enclosure in nothing but her underthings.

And beside them, Princess Ceres, radiant and poised, stifling a startled laugh behind her gloved fingers.

For a beat, no one spoke. The only sounds were the distant chirping of birds and the faint, satisfied snuffling of the wolf pups.

Mira’s face turned the color of boiled beetroot.

"Your Highnesses—" she tried to curtsy but faltered. She remembered that she was only wearing a flimsy peticoat. Her voice cracked as she attempted to regain composure. "This... this..." she stopped as she did not know what to say.

"It looks like you’ve lost a duel with pups," Alderan said teasingly, his eyes trained on the two dark pups lying contentedly on the yellow fabric.

"They’re vicious," Mira snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Little Grey and Snow, who now snoozed blissfully on her torn skirt.

Reuben’s eyes flicked toward the fence. "And yet they seem quite at peace."

"I was retrieving a ball," Mira said through gritted teeth. This is Lara’s fault. Why did she have to keep these stupid pups?