Emperor Valerius let the silence stretch, his sharp gaze moving across the ballroom like a blade testing for weaknesses. He stood at the base of the grand staircase, flanked by his guards and advisors, with Marcellus a careful step behind his right shoulder.
The crowd waited.
Nobles who had been scheming moments ago now held their breath. Servants froze mid-stride, trays balanced on gloved hands. Even the musicians had gone still, their instruments silent, their eyes fixed on the man in crimson.
"The future," the emperor repeated, savoring the word. "It is a fragile thing. Easily broken. Easily stolen. But when protected, when nurtured, it becomes something unshakeable."
He began to walk, slowly, his robes trailing behind him. The crowd parted without being told, creating a corridor that led directly to the dance floor's center, where Evelina still stood alone.
Cael watched from his corner, Aldric and Marise beside him.
"She's not moving," Marise whispered.
