The acceptance settled like a held breath.
For a heartbeat, the hall remained frozen in place, conversations strangled mid-thought, bodies half-turned, eyes fixed on the space between the two heirs. Anticipation rippled outward, quiet but unmistakable.
Then Armand stepped forward.
The effect was immediate.
He didn't raise his voice, didn't need to. His presence alone carried enough weight to bend the room around him. Former patriarch. The man whose word had once defined House Morgain. Even now, second only to Valttair in authority, and in some ways more absolute for it. No one spoke. No one questioned him.
"Make space," Armand said, tone measured and final. "Move the tables. We'll do this here."
