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As he left, her younger brother, Julian—the boy who usually avoided her like a plague—poked his head in. "Sister," he whispered, sliding a plate of honey cakes onto her desk. "Don't tell Father, but I saw the way you handled the court today. You were... impressive."

Elara looked at the jasmine and the cakes, a strange warmth blooming in her chest. She had spent months trying to avoid her tragic end by being "perfect," but it seemed that by simply standing her ground, the family that once feared her was starting to adore her. As he left, her younger brother, Julian—the boy

"And Elara?" he added, his voice gruff. "The Crown Prince's recent insults toward you have been noted. The Veridia knights are being stationed at your door. No one—not even royalty—will make you feel unwelcome in your own home again." You were

"Your favorite dried jasmine," he muttered, looking everywhere but at her eyes. "I noticed your supply was low." "And Elara