*Xamara*

The door opens with a thud, far gentler than I expected, and I look up, surprised it’s happening so soon. I’ve only been inside for a few minutes. A single guard stands in the doorway with a composed expression.

“Miss Xamara,” he says, bowing his head. “Please come with me.”

My pulse quickens, but I nod and follow. We walk through wide stone corridors that feel nothing like the woods or the rogue dens. These halls are warm, lit with golden sconces, the air fragrant with cedar and pine. Servants walk through the halls, their gazes moving over me, curiosity tempered by discipline.

I brace myself for judgment, suspicion,...