Silence held the court in place.
Not the ordinary quiet of etiquette.
Not the restrained stillness of nobles awaiting their turn to speak.
But something heavier.
Something absolute.
Every breath in the chamber seemed suspended.
Waiting.
Princess Isolde Lysoria stood at the center of it.
Unmoving.
Unshaken.
Her gaze rested on one figure alone.
And when she spoke—
Her voice carried with quiet certainty.
"Princess Mireya Lysoria."
The name struck the court like a blade.
Gasps broke through the silence.
Sharp.
Uncontrolled.
Nobles turned.
Clergy shifted.
Eyes moved in unison toward the fourth princess.
Mireya stood perfectly still.
For a fraction of a second—
Too still.
Then—
She moved.
A breath.
A shift of posture.
A lift of her chin.
Composure returned like a mask snapping back into place.
Her expression smoothed.
Her lips curved faintly.
And when she spoke—
Her voice was calm.
Measured.
Unimpressed.
"…this is a serious accusation."
Not denial.
