The next day arrived gently. It was the day of the royal party.
The banquet was scheduled for five in the evening, yet Ethan had not made his way to the palace hall. He was still dressing after lunch. After all, no royal gathering ever truly began at the exact hour written on the invitation.
Ethan stood before the mirror, dressed in a refined combination of black and crimson. The clothes were simple yet elegant, fitted perfectly to his frame. The crimson lines ran along the edges like restrained flames, giving him a sharp and noble presence.
He turned slightly and extended his hand toward the beautiful soul beside him. He lifted her hand and kissed the back of her palm softly.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Yes," Claira replied.
Unlike before, her voice was steady. There was no hesitation, no fear trembling beneath her words.
Soon, the two entered the carriage.
