[Lavinia's POV—Dawnspire Wing, Royal Chambers, Night]
I wasn't even allowed to glare dramatically at the door as it shut in my face.
Mostly because it didn't shut.
It slammed. Loudly. With the kind of finality that felt less like being grounded and more like I'd just been excommunicated from the Empire.
Okay—not excommunicated. Just grounded.
By my own father.
Which, honestly, felt worse.
Anyway! Since I, Lavinia, the (currently imprisoned but still stunning) future Empress, had possibly made a minor misstep by sneaking out during an imperial lockdown... I decided to do what any noble, responsible, guilt-ridden daughter would do.
I sat down. I picked up my favorite ink—sparkly gold, because if I was going to suffer, I'd suffer fabulously. Pulled out the thickest, most elegant parchment I owned. Stared at it for a moment. And then, with all the grace of a diplomatic goddess, I began to write:
