You had been sitting at your vanity. Rose oil. Pearl comb. A maid's hands working the last pearl pins into your hair.

The second trumpet call came. Closer now. Undeniable.

You rose without thinking. Your skirts whispered against the marble floor as you crossed to the window. The afternoon sun caught the diamonds at your ears, scattering light across the walls.

Below, the courtyard unfolded like a painting.

Horses. Gleaming coats, black and chestnut, their bridles adorned with gold. Soldiers in emerald and black uniforms, standing at attention. Carriages lacquered in dark wood, their wheels still rolling to a stop.

And at the center of it all, dismounting with the sort of ease that came from a lifetime of expectation—