Morning descended over Ivanova beneath a sky the color of cold silver.
The kingdom was awake long before sunrise.
Not because of celebration.
Not because of peace.
Fear had awakened it.
The marketplace that once overflowed with laughter and music now carried only whispers.
Merchants arranged their goods with distracted hands while glancing nervously toward the northern roads every few minutes as if expecting soldiers to appear from the mist itself.
Even the air felt wrong.
Heavy.
Waiting.
Ariana walked through the palace balcony corridor slowly, her pale green gown brushing softly against the marble floors as she overlooked the city below.
From this height, she could see the smoke rising from bakeries and blacksmith shops, the crowded streets, and the long lines forming outside grain storage houses.
People were preparing.
Not for winter.
For war.
Her fingers tightened slightly against the stone railing.
"They are afraid," she murmured softly.
