[Osric's POV—Imperial Audience Room]
I sat rigidly in the grand meeting hall, my palms sweating against the cold marble table. The Emperor—my future father-in-law (if I survived the next five minutes)—sat across from me like a carved statue of divine wrath.
Ravick and Theon stood on either side of him like silent executioners. No one spoke. Not a sound except the relentless ticking of the ornate clock on the wall.
His majesty's crimson eyes locked onto me with such intensity that I briefly wondered if he could set people on fire by sheer will.
"I will accept you," His Majesty finally said, voice calm but somehow scarier for it, "as my forced son-in-law."
My heart leapt—then immediately crashed back into my stomach.
"But…" he continued, each syllable slicing through my fragile hope, "you must pass my trials. Spare with me and survive them, and the day you win against me, you will earn the right to call yourself her fiancé."
