Ren waited in one of the receiving chambers of the Elven Palace while a servant prepared to inform Princess Elena of his arrival.
The palace was as elegant as ever—quiet, pristine, and suffocatingly refined in the way only elven architecture could manage. White stone pillars rose toward a vaulted ceiling threaded with silver carvings that shimmered whenever light touched them. Vines with tiny glowing flowers wound around the arches like living decorations, and the air carried the faint scent of blooming herbs, polished wood, and something sweet he couldn't quite place.
It was beautiful.
It was also expensive.
That was Ren's first thought every time he came here.
Not awe. Not reverence. Not admiration.
Just a rough mental estimate of how much money he could make if he somehow dismantled the place brick by brick and sold everything at auction.
While he waited, one of the palace servants approached carrying a silver tray.
