"—for one who was to become queen."
The final words struck harder than any shout.
A hush swept across the ballroom. Even the musicians, who had been frozen mid-motion, seemed to stiffen further.
Clara did not immediately respond.
Her gaze lingered not on Lady Mira, nor on the prince shielding her, but on the faint tremble in Mira's gloved hands.
Fear.
Guilt.
Or simply weakness?
It did not matter.
Clara's expression did not change.
"I see," she said at last, her tone neither defensive nor indignant. "May I inquire as to the nature of these accusations?"
Lucian's jaw tightened. He had expected denial. Perhaps anger.
Not inquiry.
"You spread rumors questioning her birth," he said sharply. "You obstructed her participation in Academy functions. You used your influence to isolate her socially."
Each charge fell into the silence like a stone cast into still water.
A few nobles nodded faintly. Others avoided Clara's gaze entirely.
