Back in the Royal Palace, Iva felt like she was drowning
The past days had been a blur of activity—nonstop, relentless, utterly consuming. She moved from one obligation to the next without pause, without breath, without a moment to simply be.
The ceremony was tomorrow.
And she was not ready.
Protocol lessons that stretched for hours, drilling her on how to walk, how to speak, how to curtsy to visiting dignitaries. Dress fittings that left her standing on a platform for what felt like days while seamstresses pinned and prodded and debated the cut of her gown. Makeup trials that painted her face into something she barely recognized. Hair that was curled, pinned, sprayed, and re-curled until her scalp ached.
And the guest list.
Oh… the Guest List!
Pages and pages of names. Alphas and L
