Evening settled gently across the Regina Estate as the last golden traces of sunlight drifted over ancient stone walls and carefully maintained gardens, and the estate carried the quiet dignity of a place that had witnessed centuries of triumph, betrayal, love, and war without ever surrendering its composure. Servants moved discreetly between buildings while lanterns gradually illuminated pathways winding through flowering courtyards, and despite the peaceful scenery, a subtle tension lingered beneath the surface because recent events had left nobody entirely comfortable.
Elara stood upon the western terrace overlooking the lower gardens while the cool evening breeze carried the scent of roses through the air, and for the first time since arriving in Florence she allowed herself a brief moment without council meetings, political negotiations, or endless questions regarding her future. The silence should have been comforting. Instead it felt unfamiliar.
