The doors of the court hall closed behind us with a heavy echo that rolled down the corridor and faded into stillness. The murmurs of nobles dissolved into the distance, leaving only the quiet scrape of our footsteps against marble and the faint rustle of fabric as servants hurried past with lowered heads. The air felt cooler out here, calmer, untouched by the sharp politics we had just left behind.
I walked between Maribel and Liora with my usual measured pace, posture straight, chin level, hands relaxed at my sides. From the outside, I must have looked perfectly composed. Untouchable. Every inch the Crown Princess.
Inside, however, something unsettled lingered.
My fingers flexed slightly, and the memory surfaced before I could stop it.
The noble's whisper.
Jealous.
Then the ice.
I had not even thought about casting it. The frost had simply answered me, racing across the floor and dragging him down like prey caught in a trap. No hesitation. No debate. No second thoughts.
