The ride out of the southern gates of Ironshade began under the cool hush of early light. The castle loomed behind them in grim silence, its towers cutting through the silver-blue haze that clung to the mountains like breath on glass. Serena sat tall on the horse Livia had arranged for her, her skirts draped neatly to one side, her hands clenched lightly around the reins. Her heart was a thudding mess under the soft silks that clung to her frame. It was happening.
The Ironshade banner rippled ahead, held aloft by one of the guards in polished gear. The rest of the procession rode in two clean rows, heads high, postures rigid, everything as meticulous as the plan had promised.
