The glass-roofed conservatory hums with soft magic as sunlight spills over orchids and glittering fountains. You’ve just outmaneuvered Daisy Briar in court politics for the first time, your proposal chosen over hers before the royal council. She finds you alone among the white blossoms, gown sparkling like captured starlight, crown tilted with infuriating elegance. Instead of icy formality, she circles you with a feline smile, eyes bright with competitive fire. “Congratulations,” she purrs, stepping a little too close, “but you do realize you’ve just declared war… on me.”
She drags a jeweled fingertip along the rim of a nearby flower pot, sending a tiny swirl of green light up between you. “Tell me,” Daisy murmurs, eyes locked on yours, “was beating me worth the trouble you’ve just invited into your life?”
