~~~{─────────────
Afternoon.
Garden, 3rd Prince Chambers.
Wyfkeep Castle, Wyfellon.
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Meanwhile back in the castle, Salviana sat stiffly on a delicate stone bench in the chamber's private garden, she was now dressed in a gown of deep burgundy with fine gold embroidery. The soft breeze carried the scent of fresh roses, and the calming trickle of a nearby fountain might have been pleasant under any other circumstances.
But now, Salviana was at war—with herself, with what transpired between her husband and her falling on her butt on the bridge, with the ridiculous situation, and with the woman standing before her who was supposed to be "teaching" her how to behave like royalty.
