Ellie stood at the window of the high tower, unmoving, her silhouette cast in the gray light of the overcast sky. The wind pulled at the ends of her dark braid and stirred the heavy blue cloak hanging from her shoulders. Below, the procession from the Riverlands entered through the iron gates of Stormvale, banners fluttering, hooves clattering against stone.

She stepped back from the window and turned sharply on her heel. Her gauntlets clanked as she stripped them from her hands and dropped them on the table without care. One rolled to the edge and clattered to the floor. She didn’t look at it.

Crossing the room, she reached for a sword belt hanging from a hook and fastened it low across her waist. Not her court blade—her training sword, dulled from use. She tugged her gloves back on, finger by finger, and strode out the chamber door with long, decisive steps.

The stone halls echoed with her boots as she descended the tower stairs. Servants parted wordlessly at her approach. A steward fell into step beside her, offering some detail—she gave no answer. Her pace didn’t slow. The steward hesitated, then fell away.

She crossed the inner courtyard and passed through the outer corridor toward the ceremonial hall. Her shoulders squared. Her chin high. Her hands never strayed far from the hilt at her hip.

As the heavy double doors to the hall creaked open before her, she stopped.

Guards bowed low. A herald cleared his throat to announce her. She ignored them.

Instead, her eyes locked on the far end of the hall.

The princess from Riverlands had arrived.

Ellie stood silent at the threshold, staring.

She would not make this marriage easy.