The following evening arrived wrapped in the soft gold of a Tuscan sunset, and the gardens of Regina Estate seemed suspended between daylight and darkness as warm light spilled across ancient stone paths and turned every rose petal into a fragment of living fire. Elara walked beside Freya through the winding garden without attendants or guards because both women had quietly agreed that certain conversations required distance from politics, expectations, and the countless eyes that seemed determined to watch every movement they made.
