Lila
The gardens had never looked more curated.
Even the air felt arranged—light, perfumed with blooming roses and honeysuckle, touched with just enough breeze to stir the silk banners strung between marble columns. Golden sunlight filtered through carefully trimmed topiaries and glittered against polished silver trays of sparkling juice.
The entire court had come out to watch us parade like trained animals. And they’d brought company.
Nobles I’d never seen before milled along the stone walkways. Familiar ones lounged under shaded pavilions with drinks in hand and expressions that said they were here to be entertained.
Behind them, farther back but ever-present, were the discreet scribes and public chroniclers, styluses tucked behind ears, waiting like hounds for a scandal to scent.
