"What's all this commotion?" Ricardo's voice cut across the antechamber. "Princess—" Maura stammered, the steward's clipboard balanced on one knee. A serving girl nearly dropped a tray; tea sloshed toward embroidered hems. She slapped the tray down, bowed so low her forehead touched the marble, and struck herself across the brow in a clumsy, noisy show of deference. "Katherine Rocha," someone whispered, and the whisper doubled until the room sagged under the weight of a name that had been missing for three years. "Is that—" a young lord leaned forward. "It cannot be Lady Kat. Not after—" "Silence!" Maura barked. Her voice snapped like a whip and the court fell into a brittle hush. "Announce her properly." Maura rose and crossed the space with the stiff walk of those who had practiced humility until it became authority. "Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Katherine Rocha, returned to Summit Palace," she said, and the words landed like a coin on a table. Heads turned. Some faces shone with relief; others tightened. Katherine stood by the doorway in a travel-worn cloak, sleeves pinned up to hide the thin white scars along her wrists. Her hair was braided and tamed. Her hands clenched around the edge of the cloak because the world still wanted to tug her apart and she planned to stay intact. "Princess," Captain Havel said, bowing with that soldier's blunt respect. "Welcome back." "Thank you," Katherine said. Her voice was small enough to pass without alarm