Belleah Westwood's carriage rolled to a stop before the palace gates, its heavy wheels grinding against stone. Darius stood waiting outside—expression cold, posture rigid—as protocol demanded.
The moment Belleah descended, her smile was bright and triumphant, as if the palace itself were her rightful stage.
"I greet you once again, Your Highness," she said, lowering her head with practiced grace—though the sharp pride in her eyes betrayed how unwilling she was to bow.
Darius forced the bare minimum of a polite smile.
"I received Duke Westwood's message regarding your arrival. I trust your journey was safe."
"Oh, it was," she said lightly. "After all, this palace will soon become my second home again. I still remember the way as if I never left."
Darius's jaw tightened.
"I did not imply anything by my words, Lady Belleah."
She covered her mouth with a dainty laugh.
