Azlynn’s P.O.V.

The sun arched high over the Salvatore castle, casting golden glow through the towering glass windows and draping the stone halls in warmth and festivity.

Everywhere I went, servants bustled with gold trays. Musicians rehearsed soft melodies in the garden courtyard, and garlands of the moon lilies were stung along the banisters.

The kingdom was alive, celebrating the arrival of the royal heir. And yet, I hadn’t a moment to breathe. From the second I stepped through the grand archway of the castle, I was whisked from one chamber to another, surrounded by the healers, midwives, and royal physicians.

Each murmuring diagnostic performed scans, checking my pulse, my...