Rena woke to a pale sun peeking through the tall windows of her bedchamber, rousing her from a sleep so deep she barely stirred all night. She surfaced slowly, unsure if the warmth she felt was a lingering dream or a genuine sense of relief. Her muscles still throbbed from healing King Darius the previous evening, yet her mind felt clearer than it had in days. For a moment, she allowed herself to remain beneath the soft covers, recalling how her father's harsh, uneven breathing had steadied and how a faint flush of color had returned to his face. She knew it was no cure—the underlying shadows of his ailment still lingered—but she dared hope she had bought him valuable time.
A quiet knock interrupted her reverie. Inviting the visitor in, she found a young maid bearing a tray of steaming tea and warm bread. With hushed courtesy, the maid explained that Queen Maribel would soon be waiting in the main hall, for the envoys of Imlera and Drenvale were expected to arrive before noon. Rena felt her pulse quicken at the reminder. Amid Severin's veiled threats and her father's frailty, she had nearly forgotten the day's crucial diplomatic gathering: influential leaders from two neighboring realms would be visiting to discuss trade routes, resolve border disputes, and explore alliances that might reinforce Silverstrand's standing. Thanking the maid, Rena rose from bed, noticing a residual tremor in her arms—the toll of last night's healing. She nibbled on bread, sipped the hot tea, then dressed in a pale gold gown trimmed with soft blue to reflect Silverstrand's colors. Attendants arrived to comb and weave her hair into subtle braids that hinted at her royal heritage, though her thoughts wandered anxiously to King Darius. Could she attempt another healing so soon without risking her own strength? Would rumors spread that she had failed if she couldn't fully cure him? And how might Severin spin her partial success to his advantage?
Stepping out into the corridor, she found the palace already buzzing with preparations for the envoys' welcome. Servants draped the grand atrium in fresh lilies and ribbons, knights burnished armor for the ceremonial procession, and Lady Halene supervised pages struggling under the weight of flower arrangements. Yesterday's gloom and drizzle had eased overnight, replaced by bright morning light that brought every tapestry and polished tile to life. At the corridor's far end, Rena spotted Gareth, who dismissed two guards upon noticing her. Bowing politely, he wore a neat tunic of dark gray bearing a small badge that marked him as a royal messenger. She glimpsed a slight hitch in his shoulder—an old souvenir from the boar attack in Whisperwood—but he still carried an air of steady vigilance.
"How are you holding up after last night?" he asked in low concern, studying her face. She admitted feeling spent but unwavering in her resolve. He confided that some in the palace whispered of King Darius's calmer night, while others suspected Severin would seize this day's meeting to undercut Rena's position or to sow doubt about her healing gift. She steeled herself, recalling the steward's mask of courtesy that concealed a hunger for power. Yet she assured Gareth that if the envoys needed to see the truth of the lost princess's return, they would meet a woman neither timid nor naive.
They headed to the main hall, a grand atrium with towering arches and an intricate mosaic on the floor commemorating Silverstrand's founding. Colored light streamed through tall stained-glass windows, spilling onto the marble in pink and blue patches. Clusters of nobles stood about, referencing scrolls and notes in anticipation of the envoys' arrival. Across the hall, Rena spotted Queen Maribel, dressed in an ornate gown and absorbed in conversation with officials. Relief visibly touched her eyes when she saw her daughter. Moving closer, she took Rena's hands, inquiring gently whether she felt strong enough for the impending responsibilities. Rena, in turn, asked after King Darius and learned he remained weak but was mercifully free of the high fever that had plagued him. That alone felt like a small but treasured victory.
Presently, fanfares rang out, announcing the arrival of Imlera's delegation. Rena accompanied her mother onto a raised dais, surrounded by Lady Halene, Gareth, and several of Silverstrand's prominent nobles. Servants pulled open the wide doors to admit a slender woman in flowing turquoise robes, a serious man with streaked-white hair, and two attendants who bore the emblem of a crane beside a crescent moon—hallmarks of Imlera. Queen Maribel welcomed them with graceful poise, addressing the pair as Lady Cassira and Ambassador Kaian. Rena sensed curious scrutiny in Cassira's gaze, as though the woman had heard rumors of a miraculous healer. Rena offered a polite nod, suggesting she hoped to learn about Imlera's traditions if opportunity allowed.
Soon after, another trumpet fanfare heralded Drenvale's contingent: broad-shouldered Lord Arturin and his retinue in navy-blue tunics embroidered with golden wolves. Queen Maribel greeted them warmly, introducing Rena once more as the newly returned princess. Lord Arturin politely bowed, clearly intrigued by the reports of her healing gifts. The atmosphere held a hum of promise—that these delegations might pave the way for stronger alliances or beneficial treaties for Silverstrand. Even so, Rena remained vigilant for Severin's arrival, each passing moment of his absence stirring a faint dread.
He eventually made an entrance, stepping through the doors with deliberate composure. After offering a shallow bow to the queen, he swept his gaze over the assembled envoys and paused upon Rena with something between a smirk and a challenge. Though she braced for a sardonic remark, he merely commented on "urgent administrative matters" causing him delay, the words dripping with just enough condescension to agitate. Queen Maribel, as calm as ever, suggested they proceed to the council chamber, where they would formally review trade proposals, border concerns, and mutual defense pacts. In subdued procession, they traversed a side corridor into a wide, map-lined chamber featuring a circular table at its center. Chairs bearing nameplates surrounded the table, while tall windows overlooked a courtyard glistening from the previous day's rain. Queen Maribel took the central seat, Rena at her right, and Severin a few chairs away, adopting an air of casual authority.
Discussions began, with each delegation stating their interests. Imlera valued stable routes for exporting their crafted silks and artworks, while Drenvale aimed to trade for Silverstrand's textiles and metals, proposing potential adjustments to tariffs. Rena listened closely, inserting herself only when the queen or a delegate invited her perspective. She spoke about the burdens that overtaxed farmers faced and of merchants' fears of bandits, maintaining that a balanced and fair trade policy could prevent unrest from festering. She felt Severin's gaze each time she pressed for empathy toward common folk, but Queen Maribel deftly moderated the debate. Then, Lady Cassira directly addressed Rena, asking how her return and rumored gifts might shift Silverstrand's governance. Rena answered that she was still learning court customs but believed that policies serving the common good would serve the entire realm, for an angry, impoverished populace posed a genuine threat to stability. Severin interjected, remarking on the treasury's limitations and the necessity of sustaining military strength. Rena refused to be flustered, calmly arguing that any neglect of commoners would, in the long term, undermine the realm's defenses.
Before tensions could spark further, Queen Maribel guided the dialogue toward details of caravan routes and potential cooperation on border security. The envoys seemed intrigued by Rena's forthrightness, even if some nobles eyed her with guarded surprise. Nearing the meeting's end, a sudden crisis broke the measured atmosphere. Briand, one of Drenvale's attendants, clutched his chest and collapsed against the table, gasping in evident agony. Alarm spread through the room as Arturin and a palace physician rushed to his side, fearing a heart failure or seizure. Rena's instincts, honed from countless experiences tending to wounded animals and villagers in Whisperwood, propelled her forward. She knelt beside Briand, her voice unwavering as she requested permission to try healing him. Arturin granted it without hesitation, desperation plain in his eyes.
Pressing her hand gently over Briand's heart, Rena summoned the wellspring of warmth she knew lay within her. A hush descended on the council chamber as a faint silver-white glow flickered around her fingertips. Though she was already weary from treating King Darius, she focused on steadying Briand's frantic pulse, picturing his pain as a knot that could be carefully unraveled. Seconds later, his gasps began to soften, the rigidity in his limbs relaxing. Color seeped back into his cheeks, and the physician, checking his vitals, uttered a stunned exclamation at how rapidly the crisis had diminished. A wave of relief rippled through the envoys, while some Silverstrand nobles exchanged startled whispers. Lord Arturin looked near tears, grasping his attendant's hand, and Lady Cassira expressed wonder at witnessing "the princess's miracle."
Rena, exhausted, let Gareth ease her back to her feet. She caught sight of Severin standing with slow applause. Though he marveled aloud at the display of her power, his eyes reflected annoyance at her victory. Queen Maribel dismissed the group for a brief recess to aid Briand's recovery, and the delegates broke into hushed conversations that buzzed with awe at what they had just seen. Leaning on Gareth, Rena downed a cup of water, her heart pounding with a mix of fatigue and triumph. Even if Severin tried to manipulate public opinion later, no one here could deny the authenticity of her healing gift.
A page approached quietly, informing her that King Darius was awake and wishing for news of the council's progress. Queen Maribel, preoccupied with the envoys, approved of Rena going to him. Though she felt wobbly, Rena resolved to share the day's events with her father and reassure him that, for now, negotiations seemed promising and that her powers had earned respect. She left Gareth behind to keep watch over Severin's machinations.
Walking alone through dim corridors, she allowed herself a moment to reflect on how rapidly fortune could shift. Only the day before, she had agonized over how to present her gift without turning it into spectacle. Fate had intervened with Briand's sudden attack, and while she would never wish harm on anyone, she recognized that saving him lent weight to her claim as the lost princess. Of course, she also knew it raised expectations—word would spread, and soon many might plead for her healing, which she couldn't endlessly provide without draining herself. She clutched the pendant beneath her gown, reminded anew that power brought as many burdens as it did blessings.
She halted at a tall window overlooking the courtyard, noticing anew the patches of green glistening from the previous drizzle. A single shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds. She breathed it in, thinking of the hope shining in her father's eyes when he had thanked her the night before, the way Queen Maribel's voice trembled with gratitude. This day, she had shown envoys and nobles alike that she intended to protect her kingdom's well-being in ways only she could. That alone felt like a victory, however precarious. Pressing onward, she neared King Darius's chamber, renewed by a quiet determination to offer what comfort she could—and to brace for whatever new trials Severin or circumstance might demand of her next.