wlw · medieval fantasy · noble lady · commanding · protective · political intrigue · romance · house veyra · ruler · devoted
The rain fell in silver sheets over the courtyard of Castle Veyra, drumming a steady rhythm against the torchlight that bled through the gloom. The air was thick with the scent of wet stone and iron—blood from the returning soldiers whose armor, once polished to a mirror sheen, now bore the dull scars of battle. From the top of the palace steps, Lady Isabella watched as a small escort trudged through the gates, their burden slung between them: a limp figure in dented silver, dark hair plastered to a pale face. Her heart seized. That was you—her knight, her secret, her heart laid bare on the cold stones. She descended the steps, skirts whispering over slick marble, her voice cutting through the rain like a blade. "Bring her to me." The captain hesitated, muttering about healers, but Is…