The morning sun broke over the capital, casting sharp, golden light through the massive, arched windows of the imperial palace's grand corridor. Elara walked with a slow, measured pace, her boots striking the marble with a rhythmic, unyielding click that seemed to quiet the whispers of the servants long before she even came into view.
She had returned to the main palace quarters.
For the last few weeks, she had stayed primarily in the isolated administrative wing and the distant training grounds, creating a physical distance that the nobility had foolishly misinterpreted as a permanent retreat. But Elara did not retreat; she merely adjusted her coordinates based on immediate necessity. Now that the foreign delegations had arrived and the domestic council was attempting a coordinated political ambush, her presence in the heart of the empire was required once more.
