The morning sun bathed the palace courtyard in golden light, glinting off the polished armor of the honor guard. Viana stood at the center of the farewell procession, her posture regal, her circlet gleaming against her blonde hair.
As Crown Princess, protocol demanded she see Prince Rayne off as he returned to the Valendale Empire, whenever the King or the Queen wasn't available. Her emerald gown fluttered in the breeze, and she clasped her hands to keep them steady, her mind still tangled from the balcony incident.
The Valendale delegation was a flurry of activity—servants loading trunks, horses snorting, and Rayne's guards adjusting their crimson cloaks. Rayne himself stood by his stallion, adjusting its bridle with a casual ease that belied the weight of his departure.
His blonde hair caught the light, and when he glanced her way, his lips curved into that infuriatingly familiar smirk.
