I returned to my manor in a heavy, tumultuous haze. My arrival felt as though I were emerging from a long, feverish dream—a dream saturated with dread and uncertainty.
After meticulously cleaning away the traces of the earlier chaos and changing into my ceremonial attire, I made my way to my private office.
The corridors, still steeped in the lingering aroma of polished wood and heated candle wax, seemed to echo with the secrets of the night. Outside, the slowly brightening sky hinted at a day destined for upheaval.
As I walked briskly toward the office, Haisley's quiet voice broke the heavy silence. "Did they confirm it?" she asked, her tone a mix of anxiety and tentative hope.
I responded simply, "They did," though inside I trembled with the weight of what that confirmation meant. I was certain that they would soon announce the postponement of the coronation—a desperate attempt at damage control.
