Hanna sat on the wooden stool by the small mirror in her quarters, running a worn-out brush through her wet, tangled hair. The scent of soap still clung to her skin from her recent bath. Her reflection stared back at her with hollow eyes, and the dim candlelight flickered across the cracked mirror.
She had just reached for her green dress, draped over the bedpost, when the door slammed open with a violent crash. It rebounded off the wall, nearly unhinged from the force.
Two palace guards stormed into the room, their faces hard as stone.
"Hanna," barked the taller one. "You are to come with us. Now."
She froze, the brush slipping from her fingers and clattering softly against the floor. "Wh-what? Why? What did I do?"
"No questions," the second guard snapped. "The prince has summoned you to the courtroom."
Fear knotted in her stomach like a fist. Her legs felt like iron as she stumbled to her feet, hastily tightening the sash of her robe. "Please… can I at least change—"
