21

The elders' false warmth masked their disdain, but I sensed the unspoken critique that lingered in their gaze. I, the unexpected addition to their political stage, could not escape the scrutiny that accompanied my every step. The castle, with its towering spires and opulent halls, felt like a labyrinth where every corridor held echoes of secrets I had yet to uncover.

The elders' eyes, however, could not conceal the disdain that flickered beneath the surface. It was a dance of pretense, a masquerade where my every move was dissected and scrutinized.

As we approached the throne, I could not escape the unsettling feeling that the castle itself held its breath, awaiting the unraveling of a story written in secrecy.

Liam's grip tightened, offering a silent reminder of our shared journey and the uncharted territories of our connection. His eyes, a refuge in the storm of political posturing, carried a sincerity that contrasted the masked sentiments of the elders.

The throne, an emblem of po