The grand hall shimmered beneath golden chandeliers, their light flickering against the polished floors and glittering gowns. Music still lingered softly from the orchestra, and laughter rippled among nobles as they toasted to the princess's birthday. Yet in one quiet corner, far from the cheerful chatter, Caelric Harvellene walked toward his father, his expression calm yet shadowed by something deeper.
He leaned close to Duke Corvane Harvellene, his voice low enough to be swallowed by the hum of voices around them.
"It's almost twelve," he whispered.
Corvane's red eyes glimmered faintly under the candlelight as he straightened. With that simple statement, his smile thinned, the pleasant mask he wore for the court beginning to fade.
