"Now, please explain to me what you just did to the Crown Prince?" Poul demanded, his voice heavy with concern and curiosity. Sara sat on a plush velvet chair, her hands nervously twisting the fabric of her dress, as Poul stood before her, his expression grave.
"I heard from your father that you rejected the engagement, is it right?" he pressed on, his piercing gaze fixated on her.
"That's correct, Poul," Sara replied, her voice soft yet resolute. "We were recalled from the Ottoman where we were stationed as the King of the British Empire wanted to hear an update. Of course, if you are following the development of the Crimean War, it isn't going too well for the allied forces."
Sara's eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape. Poul's intense scrutiny made her feel uneasy, and she could feel her palms growing clammy with sweat.
