The Princess's Second Life
The palace gardens had always been Elara’s refuge. Roses bloomed here in perfect rows, their petals crimson and ivory, the air thick with sweetness. But today, even the flowers seemed to hold their breath, as though they too could sense the trap closing around her.
“Elara!”
The call was light, bright, threaded with the kind of girlish charm that made courtiers soften. Serenya, Lord Garron’s daughter, swept across the path like she belonged in a painting. Sunlight kissed her auburn hair, her gown the palest green, stitched in silver vines. She looked every inch the perfect friend—warm, generous, eager.