A royal ball starts, but nobody announces it. The whole place just shifts — almost like the palace itself decides it’s time for something new. Silence gives way to music, slipping through stone and glass so gently at first, you nearly miss it. Then, the sound grows bolder, spreading until every inch of the grand hall fills up, tradition suddenly impossible to ignore.
Light pours down, bright and carefully controlled, from those chandeliers that hang from the arches high above. Reflections bounce on marble so polished it looks like water. All around, nobles, envoys, and warriors stand beneath the shine, wrapped in authority and the need to impress. They act casual, but every person there knows they’re being watched, and they know exactly how they look under all those eyes.
Nyra waits at t
