Ipsit's palace, The Bastion, rose like a spearhead out of the valley the capital city was nestled within. Four wide bridges—fixed on the cardinal directions—sloped down to the city, each laden with green gardens.Violet saw all this from the balcony of Curzon's war room. The gardens had no blooms, only a kaleidoscope of sage, emerald, and olive, freshly manicured. Sunlight pierced through the trees but brought little warmth, even to her high spot in the palace. Ipsit was a cold kingdom, drained of color.The lock clicked open on the door and Violet turned to see two maids enter, dressed in the crimson and silver livery of Ipsit, a tiny wolf head embroidered on both of their left shoulders. One was a redhead with warm brown eyes carrying a pile of dresses over her arms. The other had bronze skin and tightly coiled curls down to her waist. She carried an intricate key on a ring. Violet could see they were both wary of her, just as she was of them. "Come this way. Your suite is ready," s
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