Ingrid sat in her room, the morning sunlight filtering through the frost-kissed windowpanes. She was engrossed in her reading, a delicate teacup held in her hand as she flipped through the pages of a medicinal book with practiced ease.
The door creaked open, and Christine entered, her arms laden with a tray of freshly baked pastries. She paused, studying Ingrid with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
"Don't you want to venture outside, Your Highness?" Christine inquired, her voice gentle. "You have been stuck in here since yesterday."
Ingrid glanced up from her book, her expression serene yet distant. "Ah, I'd rather not," she replied softly, her eyes returning to the pages before her. "There are too many unfamiliar faces out there."
