The next morning broke not with peace, but with unease that clung to the palace like mist. The bells had rung at dawn, their echo rolling across the courtyards, yet the usual hum of order felt subdued, watchful. Servants moved quietly, their footsteps lighter, as though afraid to stir the storm that lingered from the night before.
In the council hall, the long table still bore the faint marks of broken glass, hastily cleaned but not forgotten. Whispers trailed after every noble and attendant who passed through, each repeating fragments of the same question, wondering why had the Crown Prince left so abruptly?
Meanwhile, far from the palace, tucked away beneath winter's frosted veil, the chaos of crowns and councils felt like another world entirely. Here, inside the quiet chambers, sprawled in a bed tangled with sheets and warmth, lay a beautiful mess—utterly unbothered by the storms that brewed beyond these walls.
