The door to the secret trunk room closed softly behind Ava, but the weight of what she had seen did not fade with distance. The lavender scent clung to her clothes, to her skin, as if the dresses had decided to follow her out of their long exile. She held one tiny frock carefully folded in her arms while her aunt walked beside her, neither of them speaking.

They didn’t go back toward the elders or the grand halls. Instead, her aunt guided her to a sunlit family lounge tucked behind the palace gardens—a place that felt alive. Cushioned sofas were scattered casually, mismatched mugs lay abandoned on side tables, and sunlight spilled through wide windows where sheer curtains fluttered like they were laughing at the rules of royalty.