The aftermath of the sparring match left the palace grounds unusually lively. The spectators were abuzz, servants scurried to tidy up the training grounds, and a sense of camaraderie lingered in the air. Argider was basking in the afterglow of her wives' playful antics, unaware of the storm brewing elsewhere. Elira, however, was far from relaxed.
As the crowd thinned, she stood by one of the palace's upper balconies, gazing down at the sprawling gardens below. Her sharp eyes caught sight of someone moving through the shadowed hedges—Callista. Draped in her usual flowing robes of deep emerald and silver embroidery, Callista exuded grace, but there was something off about her presence this time. She moved with purpose, her head tilted slightly as if listening to something no one else could hear.
