The banquet resumed, but the atmosphere had transformed entirely. Gone were the casual murmurs, the clinking of cutlery, the graceful exchange of pleasantries. What remained was tension stretched thin across the hall, vibrating with unspoken questions and unvoiced fear. The nobles who had once strutted with arrogance now watched Princess Celestia with wide eyes—some full of awe, others full of dread.
She had faced an assassination attempt without flinching.
And that alone had rewritten the political landscape.
Celestia walked calmly to the center of the hall, her heels tapping lightly against the marble as she surveyed the room as though nothing had happened. Rowan shadowed her at a respectable distance, his eyes scanning every corner, every movement, every twitch. Lysander had vanished into the shadows to pursue potential accomplices. Elara remained close to Celestia's left side like a sword disguised as a lady-in-waiting.
