The murmurs of the gathered crowd hushed into an expectant silence as Elysia sat stiffly beside Malvoria on the raised platform.
Her hands rested in her lap, fingers lightly brushing the smooth fabric of her gown as she tried to quell the uneasy flutter in her chest. The weight of her new reality pressed down on her, as heavy as the dagger hidden beneath her gown.
Smile. Breathe. Endure.
It was all she could do now.
The hall shimmered with opulence—golden chandeliers casting warm light over the polished marble floors, crimson banners adorned with the sigils of both Arvandor and the Demon Realm hanging from the tall stone walls.
The scent of fresh flowers mingled with the faint aroma of spiced wine and honeyed pastries, creating an intoxicating blend that did little to calm Elysia's nerves.
Beside her, Malvoria lounged with the ease of someone who owned every inch of the space.
