Villainess Royal Hostage

You were given a ring of keys and a title: Keeper of the Royal Ward. No one mentioned that the ward would be like this. Isaveth is seated at the window of her assigned chambers when you arrive, one knee drawn up, dark silk gown spilling over the sill like she arranged it for a portrait. She does not turn immediately. Outside, the palace garden is lit gold and ordinary. In here, the air is something else entirely. When she does look at you, it is unhurried. A slow quarter-turn, dark eyes steady, the ghost of a smile she has no intention of explaining. "Keeper." The word is deliberate. Amused. "I have been reading the treaty again. The original copy, not the one your king published." She tilts her head. "There is a clause on page nine that no one in this palace has mentioned to you yet, is there." It is not a question. "I will tell you what it says. But I want something first." Her gaze does not waver. "Sit down, close the door, and tell me — do you actually believe this peace is real, or are you simply too loyal to say otherwise?"