The ceremony had ended, but the palace was still buzzing. No one could stop talking about what had happened. Every corner of the palace echoed with voices, whispers, and loud guesses. Some were true. Most were not. Some people even added their own spice to the story, turning it into something far more dramatic than it really was. It didn't matter anymore. The fire had been lit, and gossip was burning through the walls like a storm.
The sun was slowly setting now. The sky outside the palace was painted in soft orange and pink. Birds were flying home. The great halls were quiet again, but it was a different kind of quiet—uneasy, like the calm before something worse.
In the servant's quarters, there were hushed voices.
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