Lady Ayara stood in the private chambers that had been assigned to her group within the palace.
The room was spacious and well-furnished. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting warm light across the polished floors.
Three women stood with her. All four wore veils that concealed their faces.
The atmosphere was tense as they prepared for the upcoming meeting.
"Are you certain about this, Elder Sister?" one of the women asked. Her voice carried worry. "Can Prince Arthur truly be trusted?"
Lady Ayara turned to face her companions. Though her face was hidden, her posture showed confidence. "I trust my instincts," she said firmly. "They've kept us alive this long."
"But we barely know him," another woman pointed out. "He's young. Barely more than eighteen years old according to the rumors."
"Age means nothing when it comes to talent," Lady Ayara replied. She moved toward the window and looked out.
