The moment her mother’s arms wrapped around her, River melted into the warmth. The tears that had been locked behind her lashes threatened to spill, but she forced them back. She would not break—not here, not yet. Her mother smelled the same: soap, herbs, and faint traces of flour. It was almost too much.
“Come in, come in,” Mariana urged after pulling away, wiping hastily at her own eyes.
“My girl… my baby, back home. And with—” her eyes flicked nervously to Heiko, “—the Crown Prince himself. Please, sit.”
Heiko ducked his head respectfully as he stepped into the modest Smith home. The living room was small, the couch worn from years of use, the curtains patched in places. He let his gaze drift across the walls, noting the scent of lavender clinging to the air. This was the world Rive
