The orphanage on Mother's Hill hadn't changed much since Elina last stood before its stone-framed threshold. The structure—a blend of Britannian timber architecture and Bernardian reinforcements—sat atop the rise like a watchful sentinel. The vines still clung stubbornly to its sides, curling around the stone well near the entrance. Its charm remained intact, even as the world around it changed.
The front door opened before she could knock.
"Elina."
Queen Maria stood in the doorway, her silver hair braided in the old style, no crown, only a woolen shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her face looked older than her years, lined with grief and purpose. But her eyes—green and flinty—had not softened. Elina stepped forward without hesitation and embraced her.
"Mother."
Maria held her a moment. "You've grown thinner," she said quietly. "Are they feeding you at that place?"
Elina gave a small laugh. "Too well, actually. But I've been reading more than eating."
