Ernest did not look at anyone again.
Not at the nobles.
Not at his men.
Not even at the blade pressing against Anastasia's neck.
Slowly—
He loosened his grip.
His sword slipped from his hand and fell to the floor with a sharp clang.
The sound echoed through the hall.
For a moment, no one moved.
Anastasia's eyes widened.
"My lord—" she whispered.
But Ernest did not speak.
Behind him, his men looked at one another.
Pain showed in their eyes.
Then, one by one, they followed his lead.
Swords dropped.
Metal struck stone.
The sound repeated again and again until it filled the hall.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Finally, the last blade fell.
Ernest slowly lowered himself to his knees.
His men did the same.
The hall was silent except for heavy breathing.
The royal guards tightened their grip on their weapons, still cautious.
No one trusted the sudden surrender.
Edward did not move at first.
He stood still, watching.
