|Nieves|
The meeting began, and the questions came swiftly.
The first was deceptively simple, designed to lull me into a false sense of security.
“Luna Nieves,” a deep, weathered voice called my attention. Edgar Rumire, one of the oldest and most respected councilmen, leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes never leaving mine. “What are your thoughts on the upcoming trade negotiations with the vassals from the neighboring territories?”
My throat went dry.
For a moment, the present blurred, and I was transported back to another time—to my grandmother’s council meetings, where I had sat silently by her side, listening, learning, absorbing the weight of leadership long before I ever thought I would have to carry it myself.
I swallowed hard, pushing down the ghost of the past, and cleare
