Rebecca lowered her head in acceptance of her father's words. Straightening her shoulders, she turned to me and spoke in a low voice; quiet, yet clear enough for all to hear: "Please, come with me."
As we stepped into the vast corridors of the palace, the murmur of the hall faded behind us. The interior was an echo of the splendor outside: long navy carpets, brass candelabras catching the light with every step, bas-reliefs of century-old wars etched into the walls… What coursed through the veins of this palace was not nobility, but grandeur itself.
Rebecca walked beside me in silence. The discipline in her steps reminded me not of a soldier, but of a duchy's heir. It was only the two of us now; the guards remained behind. In the silence, only the sound of heels echoed.
The high ceiling carried our footsteps, as though a hidden history was watching us from between the stones. We walked among portraits, marble reliefs, and gilded frames; centuries of eyes weighed on our backs.
