The wind that swept across the Frostbound Court's high terrace was crueler than usual. It wasn't cold in the normal sense — it was biting, surgical, elegant. Like everything in this place, even the weather carried the weight of centuries of unspoken expectation. Beneath the frozen domes of the Grand Assembly Hall, tradition reigned supreme, and any hint of change was treated as a crack in the ice itself.
I stood beside Seraphina Vel'Arin just outside the heavy bronze doors carved with runes of binding and memory. Her posture was regal, back straight, chin lifted, but I could see the muscles in her shoulders tense, the deliberate calm masking the storm I knew was roaring within her. She hadn't worn her duchess mantle for years, yet today she carried its legacy in every step.
"You don't have to do this," I murmured, voice low so only she could hear. My breath turned to mist instantly.
