The King's voice settled over the room like a layer of frost.
The music shifted.
Elias felt it before he understood it.
Every conversation in the Great Hall stuttered and died. Glasses lowered. Laughter vanished. Elias stood near one of the marble pillars with Mina, the weight of silk and eyes pressing against his skin.
The announcement still rang in his head like a struck bell.
Betrothed.
Lady Stella of the Northern Kingdom. The name was a death knell. Elias felt the air in the ballroom grow thin, the oxygen seemingly sucked out by the collective intake of breath from three hundred nobles.
Cassian hadn't moved since.
The Crown Prince stood as if he had been turned to stone. He stood at the center of the hall, posture perfect, face empty. The silver hairpin Elias had given him caught the light, a mocking glint of hope in a room that had just become a prison.
Beside Cassian, the King gestured, and a young woman stepped forward.
