There was no emotion in his voice.
No hesitation.
Just cold truth.
"I see," Cedric muttered before falling silent once more.
That had always been his nature, detached, observant, and uninterested in matters that did not directly concern him. His presence was constant, yet his involvement was rare.
A guard suddenly entered the throne room, breaking the tension that lingered in the air.
"Your Majesty, the breeder has arrived," he announced, bowing.
"Send her in," Enzo said, then added with subtle emphasis, "and her name is Lady Arabella."
The correction was quiet, but deliberate.
"Apologies, Your Majesty," the guard said quickly before retreating.
Moments later, Arabella stepped into the throne room.
Her head was held high.
Her posture firm.
Her dress clung to her figure, accentuating her curves, while her hair flowed freely down her back like a dark cascade. There was something striking about her presence, not overly adorned, yet impossible to ignore.
