That night, Ferdinand found Isabella in her private garden, tending to the night-blooming jasmine that reminded her of her homeland in Spain. The garden was one of the few places in the palace where conversations couldn't be overheard by his father's extensive spy network—Isabella had seen to that with careful magical wards and strategic landscaping.

"You've made your decision," she said without looking up from her flowers.

"Was it that obvious?"

"You have the same expression your mother ...