Maureen Laskovic:The fabrics were beautiful.Soft layers of silver-threaded silk, pale blue velvet, and warm ivory cotton lay spread across the long table before me. Tiny embroidery patterns shimmered faintly beneath the afternoon light—wolves, moons, and northern stars stitched carefully into the cloth as symbols of legacy and protection. The court seamstresses had outdone themselves this time.Lauren, Lucian, and Adrian deserved nothing less.I ran my fingers slowly across the nearest piece, feeling the smoothness beneath my skin, imagining how small their bodies would look wrapped in such delicate work. A quiet warmth settled inside my chest as I lifted one of the tiny sleeves, holding it carefully between my fingers.“This one,” I said, nodding once. “Use this design for Lauren. The silver trim suits her.”“Yes, my Luna,” the head seamstress replied immediately, bowing slightly as she marked the instruction onto her parchment.“And for Lucian,” I continued, lifting another piece,
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