The Grand Hall had not looked like this in decades.
Its high arched ceiling had been draped with pale silk and glittering banners. Candlelight flickered across marble columns. The floor gleamed like a mirror beneath the shoes of nobility. Music drifted in from a hidden ensemble, the melody stately but warm.
The betrothal of a crown prince was always a matter of spectacle. But this... this was declaration of power laid bare and dressed in gold.
Beatrice stood in the antechamber just beyond the Grand Hall, her gown a deep, midnight shade that bled into the shadows. Its neckline was modest, but the shoulders were cut sharp, the fabric heavy with embroidery in silver thread. The rose pin rested just above her pulse.
Lily adjusted the folds one last time, her fingers shaking.
"They won't forget this entrance."
"That's the point," Beatrice said.
Francois was already inside. She had heard the cheers when he entered.
"Ready?" Lily whispered.
Beatrice nodded.
